Memories Undone
by Scarlet Nightmare
Summary: We've all got secrets. We've all got regrets. Some of us, just have a little more than the rest of us.
1. I Am Here

**It's finally here!**

**It's the story I've been kinda, kinda not, hinting at!**

**But this is such a short chapter!**

**I'm really not used to cutting things off so quickly :0**

**For now, I guess it'll stay short,**

**just to see if you guys like this series or not :)**

**I'm certainly excited about it :D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<p>

I Am Here

"No Sam!"

That moment.

"NO!"

A single, minute moment.

One where a pathetic, disgusting, flesh-ridden creature held the power of worlds in his digits, and shoved it above him towards the very incarnate of destruction and tyranny.

And then, where there should have been pleasant rapture lighting the crimson, marred faceplates of Unicron's favorite plaything, was replaced with anger. Followed by shock. And finally: pain. A pain unlike any before. A pain, that stretched deeply within, expanding and contracting all at once. A pain, that tore the massive figure from the inside out. Churning, broiling heat heightened to unfathomable levels, literally melting his innards and core. Neither war-ravaged wounds, nor The Fallen's spite felt as this paralyzing suffering amid himself did. This was new, and oh so raw in intensity and power.

Voices screamed his name, and screamed of the inconsiderable death he had spread. Parts of himself exploded internally, bursting forth in a volley of sparks as he reared back from the fleshling and clutched at the large, scarlet-orange hole in his stormy grey armor. Overloading files scrambled and looped in eerie echoes of his past, blinding him with a barrage of blurry, confusing mix of emotions, sensations, and experiences. Crimson orbs flickered and fizzled, overwhelmed by the phantom profiles and words. Agony seared throughout, digging like a rusted knife into the furthest, most intimate corners of his form.

Blue...such a bright, bright and gentle blue...puffs of white drifted along on the smoke-filled breeze, the burning ribbons of grey attacking the purity with merciless contrast. What irony he felt in this scene...such blue, so pure...attacked by the hateful wrath of the grey...

A numbness crossed over his frame, granting him undeserving relief when he was surely meant for so much worse. Primus...some spark must have hope in him yet...

Gurgling, pooling liquid collected in the way of his cycling, preventing him from gaining a proper intake of air. Time was a fool's game to play. And he would be no fool. No. Time would do with him as it pleased now. The former event of his defiance landed him...well where was he now?

Life was slipping from his grasp. Shadows were moving mentally and physically. Ignorance turned to realization. Light became all too bright. He could feel himself, slipping, melting, falling...

"You gave me no choice...brother."

And every light, became darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>26,492 Vorns earlier:<strong>

"Hello?"

Darkness. So much darkness. And pain.

~_Systems unstable- beginning complete systems capability scan...scanning_...~

"Hey, are you online?"

Familiar...so familiar, but...so far.

~_Failures in vital relay areas accompany necessary shutdown protocol sequence in the following systems: Spinal relay, core relay, cerebral relay, conversion shaft processes, sensory receptors in point-five-seven-four percentage of complete circuit abilities, point-seven-eight-four-nine percentage availability in rotary and mobility mechanisms, complete inability to establish correct recover programming, corrupted ability in verbal communications, and corrupted ability in linked communication...Failing rapidly_...~

"You can't possibly lay here all orn, now can you? There is much better ways to spend your time than recharging unnecessarily."

~_Action of medical assistance ***highly*** recommended by chief officer personnel._~

Still, scarred features shook before two incredibly blue orbs shot open. A poke to the shoulderbolt set everything off.

Silver limbs flailed, throwing an already disoriented figure toppling over and across an unforgiving flat surface. Discomfort exploded across their side, throwing the air from their vents and causing them to lose their words. A larger form, they fumbled with gaining themselves and organizing the fluster of confusing senses bustling among their processor. Blinding white spread before their vision, blinding them for a brief moment. They could feel themselves on their side, their shoulderbolt smashed beneath their massive weight. A chill crept up across their chassis and spinal relay, the cold of the ground seeping the heat from their frame.

Finally, they just flopped onto their spinal support, chassis heaving and optics left wide open. Open...venting...life...

An incredibly solid shadow leaned over their vision, startling them again into raising their servos above their chassis in a defensive maneuver. Always protect the spark. That was everybot's first and only priority in battle.

Hues balanced out, followed by the dim mask hiding the profile from recognition. A slimmer figure appeared, with a sleek-fitting helm, delicate armored plates, and clad in a fascinating shade of sapphire blue. In contrast, their optics shone the purest of white, lighting up their faceplates and trickling a gleam over the smile captured in the soft expression. Instantly, the figure on the ground froze, struck senseless completely by this...this...

Primus, was she beautiful.

"Not a mute one, are we?" she questioned, a hint of laughter in her tone. It sounded like the soothing, bubbling mercury brooks by his domicile as a sparkling. The one she watched opened his lip plates, stumbling for something to say. Harsh pounding in his chassis signaled the racing of his spark, while the burning in his faceplates was evidence of the slight blue blush showing across his cheekplates.

A giggle from the unknown femme shocked him out of his stupor, causing him to jump. In doing this, he slammed his foreplate into a very hard, very unseen ledge. Pain shot throughout his cranial unit, scrambling his already frayed sense of processor at that moment.

A sharp hiss escaped his lip plates as he curled to the side, propping up on one elbowjoint while using the other to massage the sore spot he'd hit.

"Slag," he spat, shaking his helm. A gentle touch at his shoulderbolt caused his instincts to take over and he rolled, coming up in a kneeling position with his servos once again before him, his optics zeroing in on whom had touched him. The femme from before was staring at him, optics wide, her expression concerned.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized, straightening as she placed a fist to her chassis. "Are you alright?"

"I'm..." lost for words, the mech quickly dropped his arms and stood, attempting at least some sign of dignity. A rev echoed through his throat, trying to restart his vocal capacitor. "I'm quite fine, thank you," he rumbled, turning his helm to the side. As he looked around, a sense of unfamiliarity gripped his spark, the surrounding area being nothing he'd seen before.

Medical equipment was spread evenly throughout the space, most of it located near, or directly beside, the medical berths lining the walls. It was a good-sized room height and circumference-wise, but the overall shape and appearance showed clearly of a need for an upgrade. In no way was this a place he found he'd been before.

"Would you mind explaining to me where I am exactly?" he asked, facing the femme again. She grinned warmly, causing an abrupt shock of electricity up his spinal relay. It didn't seem as if she'd seen his reaction, for she gracefully trod around one of the nearby berths and patted it, gesturing for the mech to sit. He followed her and did what she wanted, slipping up over the surface with his peds sitting comfortably on the floor.

The still unnamed femme returned to his front, a cosmetic tool in her delicate servo. "You would be in a medbay," she commented, her voice even and smooth as a cube of high-grade energon. "The attendance of the one beside the gladiator pits was full, so they sent you here to be fixed. I was the only medic on site, so I've been taking care of you ever since."

Ah, that's right. He was in a match with a mech by the designation of Blackout when he'd been injured. Of course, he'd won the match, but not even a click out of the arena, and he'd collapsed. But what had been the extent of his injuries? Suddenly anxious, the mech ripped away and twisted himself around, stretching his spinal support as he gazed down at his side. In doing this, he found a rough welding holding together what should have been a gaping hole in his protoform. Sensory receptors in that area had been disabled, enabling him to feel no sense of pain or discomfort while his wound regenerated naturally.

"You have my gratitude for aiding me," he responded, straightening himself again and allowing the femme to continue her work restoring his armor. "However, it was not needed." He lifted a servo and carefully pushed her own away. She looked up at him as her arm lowered, her spark-stopping smile now gone.

"But you were failing, and if I hadn't patched your injury, your systems would have sent you into stasis. Your wounds were overwhelming your recovery softwares," she murmured the last words, as if they were a secret kept only between them. The mech cracked a smirk, pushing himself off the berth and forcing the femme to step backwards in order to not bump into his far larger mass. Feet taller, and much wider, the mech was indeed a gladiator compared to this petite creature.

Though he felt both confused and interested by her show of care for his safety compared to the mostly indifferent attitudes of the gladiatorial pits' own medics, he knew he couldn't delve into this further. He'd been here for far too long already, and he knew it was past his time of stay. Orian would be waiting for him, and what fellow pupil would he be if he kept both his near brother and practical creator guessing where he was?

"It appears as though I am perfectly fine now," he noted, starting for the door. "So it is time I make my leave."

"Wait!" the femme suddenly grabbed his arm, the heat from her servos stopping the mech in his tracks. "You're still unstable. Are you certain you will be alright?" her question and the tone of her voice made him do a double-take, his spark speeding once again by it. When had he ever been worried over as this? When Orian fussed over his wounds from the pits most definitely. But hearing this femme show her own sense of concern was different somehow...

"What concern of it is yours that I remain functioning?" he inquired as he glanced down at her attractive features, his tone humored but his processor spiked in attention. This was a not a personality he had crossed with other than the one he considered his sibling. Speaking of...

"Considering your past injuries, I cannot help but feel worry for your wellbeing," she explained, slowly releasing his arm as her optics locked with his. "It is not in my nature to be as blatantly indifferent towards the state of my patients as similar to those bound to the gladiators in the pits - such as you surely must be used to." The mech's optic ridges came up, the egging presence in his spark urging him to stay and talk to this femme further. She was an interesting character, and he found he could truly have a sensible conversation with this obviously intelligent medic.

But, sadly, he could not, for his comrades were most likely trying to figure the reason for his tardiness in their next teaching. Sentinel would be displeased, while Orian would simply be anxious, as he always was. He couldn't stay, if the time on his chronometer was anything to go by.

"Perhaps this shall settle your qualms over me," he reached over to an idle datapad, turning it on and logging in the information he wished to share. Before long, he handed it to the femme, who studied it quickly before her expression became surprised.

"This is your contact information," she claimed, getting an amused grin from the mech. He nodded, pushing it further towards her. Just because he was unable to communicate further with her now did not mean he wouldn't be available later.

"Indeed."

The femme hugged the datapad to her chassis, giving him a broad and vent-taking smile. His spark stuttered at the view, and he pivoted back around to push aside the door before he once again found himself blushing blue at her. Before he could however, the femme stalled him, her digits curling over his armor to prevent him from leaving just yet.

"Megatronus," she pronounced, the name rolling off her glossa with ease. "I like that designation." When he heard his title moving so fluidly from her lip plates, his cycling ceased and he felt his chassis squeeze. His spark casing was in a flurry, tumbling and raging in a storm. What was this feeling? Before he could speak, she continued:

"I am Euphoria," her smile turned to a content grin. "And I sincerely hope to see you again, Megatronus."

* * *

><p><strong>Told you it was short!<strong>

**But the next ones will definitely be longer :)**

**I'm excited for this story, I've been wanting to do it for a long time now,**

**So I hope you all like it!**

**I'm looking forward to seeing you guys next chapter :3**

**Man, I've missed this place :D**


	2. Once In A Blue Orn

**Here we go! :D**

**A much longer chapter for you guys to enjoy before the weekend hits :)**

**Not sure yet still when I'll make this a regular story,**

**Wednesdays sound fun...**

**Anywho, don't mind me guys, I'm just the writer!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

Once In A Blue Orn

~_Failure in performing startup protocol of necessary recovery softwares resulting in vital relay crashing in the following areas: Spinal relay,_ _conversion shaft processes, sensory receptors in fallback mode, loss of complete circuit abilities, vocal capabilities crashing and no longer online, motor functions unavailable, energy cells at ten-point-seven-nine-eight percent, memory core relapsing...recovery softwares failing...scanning for solution...scanning...~_

* * *

><p><strong>24,692 Vorns, 2 groons earlier: <strong>

Silver stretched as far as the optic could see, enveloping everything and anything in metallic beauty under the glow of the star the planet was currently orbiting. An ethereal glow came from the surface of the content environment, coloring the shimmering metals with a hint of golden warmth. Not a single acid shower cloud was in sight, nor smoke any longer from the factories. Ever since Sentinel had made the pact with the energon distributors that their output would be made so by cleaner sources, their work had reduced the planet's pollution by over fifty percent.

Vents could cycle easier, and the glowing wonder of Cybertron could be seen clearer by the wandering optic. None could help the pride they felt when they laid their gaze upon their home. This was indeed Cybertron's Golden Age.

Megatronus grinned at the sight of Iacon Hall standing gracefully against the background of the darkened sky. The star's light was only just breaching the horizon, letting the larger gladiator bask in the glittering expanse of the stars for a few joors longer. A cool breeze wafted over the land, carrying with it a sense of calmness and serenity. This gentle wind brushed along the mech's frame as he perched on the edge of the roof of his shared domicile, his legs hanging down with his arms draped over his kneebolts. His servos were clasped between them, with his helm bent back to peer up into the stretch of the lunar cycle.

Cyberton's two moons, both still unnamed, circled above as they sent milky cascades of white down upon the mass they orbited. As a creator caring for their creation, the moons gently stroked the blushing gold of the planet. Megatronus often named these satellites himself, finding that such an existence without baring any title would have been a sad one. This cycle, they were Lunesta and Hala, both designations meaning 'lunar' in some way. Yestercycle they had been Cortex and Gracium. As he stared upon them now, he found his thoughts drifting like the curling edges of the moons' cover to the designation of Euphoria, the shadows covering this femme's story abruptly capturing the entirety of his attention. His spark sped at her image in his memory core, and his CPU raced with countless thoughts and burning questions he wished to ask her. He wanted to know whom this Euphoria truly was, and he feared he may go mad if he didn't.

Giving a sigh, Megatronus raised a servo and scrubbed his tired faceplates, once again taking in the vision of her vent-taking profile that seemed adhered into the back of his optic slips. He could recalled every minute detail of her with ease, which both frightened and intrigued him at the same time.

Why would his processor save the view of her helm as it dipped so gracefully toward the back, collecting at a point before splaying out as two small attachments to the side of her cranial unit? Or how the crest of her foreplate arched backwards and fell into a swooping lean? Or the way her shoulderbolts fit so perfectly on her, connecting to other deeply blue plates of her armor as they fell over her arms like liquid mercury?

The curtain of armor flowing around her waist as a cape-like fixture... Those long, shapely legs of hers that bowed nicely into high-wedge peds... Her incredibly white optics as they spread widely in innocence and excitement... The gentleness in her tone and smile as she looked upon him so ignorantly... A small glitch in the left attachment of her helm as it spun with the sound of his voice...

"Megatronus?"

The grey gladiator was snapped from his musing as he jerked and twisted around to address who had called his name. They stepped from the shadows of the buildings and into the shivering light of the city-state. When he could see the figure, he easily recognized them.

Orian Pax: fellow pupil of Sentinel Prime, and a friend he often referred to as his sole brother. Once an orphan, Orian had come upon Sentinel while at labor in the docks, finding the Prime's words endearing and fascinating. Sentinel decided to take the youngling under his influence, and not long after, Megatronus had been found groveling in the alleyways of Kaon. The two grew close, and they now shared this domicile with the Prime as they upgraded and learned about the various values of all that was Cybertronian.

Orian was a taller mech (though still not as much so as Megatronus), with a simple navy helm that rounded back behind his crest. His sculpted faceplates shone a younger innocence, while his personality would have revealed far greater wisdom than his age portrayed. His broad chassis and shoulderbolts held a crimson-red color, and were of the highest-grade quality available. The depth of his helm's paint stood well with the red, and made up most of the covering of his peds and servos. His optics were a lighter azure like Megatronus', but his spark was far purer. One whom had never stepped ped into the gladiator pits could never understand the true meaning of death and gruesome mutilation as he.

"How long have you been up here for?" Orian questioned. The younger mech moved towards the one seated at the edge, his steps dulled in the quiet of the lunar cycle.

Megatronus returned forward, aiming his faceplates back at the sky. "Not so long, brother," he murmured, his processor beginning to shift again despite his eldest friend's presence. "I have simply been victim to my broodings lately."

"But you are usually not one to drift," Orian noted, joining his adoptive sibling by his side. "Is it perhaps having to do with the pits? I do admit I was unnerved that you had missed our lesson for the orn. So was Sentinel." The mech let his servos rest in his lap, his helm tipped back like Megatronus' to look up into the star-studded black. Megatronus huffed crudely, his skepticism at his mentor's worry for his wellbeing too great to hide. Orian knew of Megatronus and Sentinel's disagreements every so often, considering their greatly conflicting personalities.

"There was a moment I realized yourself and Sentinel Prime would worry for me. I am not surprised my assumption was correct."

"Sentinel Prime does care for you, Megatronus. You must merely believe so for you to see the true pride he holds in your name."

Megatronus glanced down at Orian and met the youthful student's optics, his expression unreadable. "Which goes to determine why he named me after The Fallen," he said lowly.

A small part of himself wished to trust the mech's word, which he had done so many times before. However, the facts against him were too many. Sentinel tolerated Megatronus in Orian's presence for the sake of the apprentice, nearly gaining a second persona in his absence. "It was merely a matter of injury that I failed in meeting for our teaching," Megatronus assured, changing topic. He was far more concerned with aiding his brother's worries than a bipolar Prime. When Orian opened his lip plates to speak, Megatronus cut him off, "I was taken care of by a fully capable femme medic. She dressed my wounds and made well sure I was not to collapse."

Orian's optics were wide with concern, his servos wrapped tight around one another. He was not a mech to take losing anybot well. And he never had been. Both Megatronus and Orian had been orphaned as sparklings, but the only difference was that Orian had been granted friendships early on in his life cycle. Though he only upgraded around a small group, he cherished each and every spark he met, meaning that if one were to perish, he was to break down and take it as a personal offense. After the mech whom had found him and brought him into his docks as a worker there in exchange for a warm berth to recharge in had been found deadsparked in his domicile, Orian had basically shut down for quartexes. He wouldn't speak, or refuel, or show any signs of his former self until Sentinel had found Megatronus. After that, Megatronus had held the displeasure of experiencing only one of Orian's shutdowns for himself.

The good that would have come out of it would have been that Orian was getting stronger. With each scar to his spark, his hide would toughen, and he could become the mech that Sentinel wished him to be. Megatronus knew that Orian needed the rougher love he was able to give, and so he would be here to give it to him. He couldn't be a student under Sentinel's watch forever.

"The medic was a femme? What was her designation?" Orian asked.

Megatronus' expression softened, his thought processes traveling again. "She was called..." he trailed off, giving a tiny grin at the recollection. "It is not important. The medical center she aided me in was in Blaster City, a city-state directly northeast of Kaon," he explained, bringing his optics down to his servos. "When I came online, I made my leave and traveled here by holorail."

"Without introducing yourself? Is that not rude for a mech to do?"

"She knows my designation. I specifically gave her my contact data so she would cease her incessant fussing over me." Megatronus knitted his digits together, suddenly frustrated with himself at not being able to get this femme out of his processor. The more he thought about her overly attentive actions toward him, the more agitated he became. He was a grown mech. He could handle a simple wound such as he had now. There had been far worse done to him than this before.

So then why couldn't he move past her memory?

Orian grinned, far used to the irritated tone of the mech. "Have you her contact data? It seems as though she is an interesting femme for you to have trusted her with your information as you did."

Megatronus paused, staring at his servos for a moment as he checked his files. _Slag_, he cursed. He'd forgotten to ask for her com. Instead of answering Orian, Megatronus stayed silent, refusing to display his mistake for his calmer comrade to hear. However, the student chuckled, not needing a outwardly spoken statement to know that his brother was without the femme's comlink data. "Do not worry brother, she shall contact you in time. When she does, you may save her data to your files."

"Perhaps," Megatronus muttered, finding his two thumb links far more interesting than Orian's optics at that moment. Why would he need to save this femme's comlink data into his personal files in the first place? What significance did she lead with his other than she seemed interesting to speak with? His spark jumped when he downgraded the femme from before, but he ignored it, instead trying to force his processor to move on from this mysteriously shrouded character.

"Orian," he said, trying to divert the conversation for the sake of his processor, "how was your trip to Praxus with Sentinel?"

The mech and Prime had traveled to Praxus together in order to address an issue regarding energon distribution among the neighboring city-states there. Complaints had come in for the past few orns, and Sentinel had found that it was now his duty to traverse there in order to fix this issue himself.

When Megatronus heard no immediate answer from his peer, he looked beside him, finding Orian examining his own servos. Something that he rarely ever did unless he was intimately caught in his own thoughts. Megatronus nudged the mech, only to have the distracted thing jerk hard enough to almost send him off the edge. Megatronus barred an arm out, blocking him from falling. Surprise gripped his processor as he helped Orian sit back up. He was usually more collected than that.

"Are you truly so trapped within your own processor that I frighten you so strongly?" Megatronus teased, causing a slight blue hue to appear over Orian's faceplates.

"No," he bit sternly, obviously embarrassed, "I was simply processing the events of our trip this orn. I'm not lost in my processes."

Yes, there was definitely something bothering him. Orian never used contractions unless he was lying. "Bluff," Megatronus accused, causing Orian's optics to go wide. "Was it an event you do not wish to speak with me about?"

Orian shook his helm, the bluish hue deepening as he closed his optics. "Nothing like that Megatronus, I assure you. The trip went fairly well actually..." he trailed off, causing Megatronus' interest to spike again. He picked up a servo, placing it on Orian's shoulderbolt as a gesture of support. Giving the armor a squeeze, Megatronus gave Orian a kind grin so to reassure him. The blue and red student relaxed under the expression, his handsome features less frightened.

"What is it Orian?" Megatronus urged, causing the mech to pause again. Impatience peaked in Megatronus' spark, but he pushed it away, adamant on matching Orian's legendary diligence.

Finally, Orian spoke, his tone soft and shy, "While in the Helix Gardens, during the time where Sentinel was meeting with the city commander, I came across a gathered group of sparklings and younglings from the local caretaker station in Praxus," he began as he took in a large cycle of air, maybe preparing himself. "Their caretaker...was there with them, and...of course, it was a femme. I spoke with her, but..."

Orian paused, suddenly lifting his optics straight to Megatronus'. "I was struggling with my words as if I'd never been in the presence of a femme before." Orian's servos clenched. "I'd never encountered such a beautiful femme before in my life cycle, so I was blundering and clumsy in my encounter with her. I made a fool of myself, and yet she still accepted me. Megatronus, I cannot get her out of my processor! It is as if she has anchored herself deep within my very consciousness."

Shock crossed Megatronus' features as he let the babbling sink into his systems. Orian's story was not so different from his own, and it frightened him to think that he may be suffering from the same symptoms as his brother may be going through. Megatronus forced himself to keep an expressionless composure as he managed to release his grip on Orian's shoulderbolt before he dented the armor unintentionally. "What is her designation?" Megatronus choked out.

Orian grinned and fished something out of his bracer, producing a small datapad with a brief load of information on it. "Ariel," he answered, his voice full of warmth, "she is named Ariel."

It took a nanoclick or two to realize the tone in Orian's vocal processor, and Megatronus studied his comrade for a moment to confirm or deny his assumption. Orian was too busy with the datapad to notice Megatronus' staring. The gladiator reached over to cover the datapad, knocking Orian out of his daze. "It is clear to me that you enjoy this femme's company very much for you to react as you are to her very designation."

"Are you suggesting I am in love?" Orian inquired, his optics stretching in curiosity. A mix of amusement and irritation filled Megatronus, causing him to smirk at his younger counterpart. Orian had only met the femme this orn! How was he to fall for her so soon? But was he really a mech to say such things either, going through what he was? _Just a femme medic, just a femme medic, just a femme medic_...

_Way more than just a femme medic_.

"I am simply implying that you spend more time with her Orian, nothing too much yet," he chuckled, finding the chance worth too much to merely let pass. "She is a caretaker in Praxus, correct? If you finish your studies early enough in the orn, you may pass from Iacon to Praxus by the holorail to meet with her before cycle fall."

"What if Sentinel is to discover I have been meeting with a lower caste femme?"

"Sentinel has no power over who you fall in love with Orian, remember that," Megatronus answered instantly. "No matter the argument he makes, you stand for yourself and Ariel, understand? Your life cycle, your choices." He ground his oral sheets in hearing Orian's worry over their mentor disapproving of him.

Despite what most on Cybertron viewed their leader as, Sentinel was nothing more than a softened, hard-helmed upper caste mech with no pleasure in seeing the younglings he'd adopted bonding to someone other than that in their class. It disgusted him that his creator figure would disapprove of a choice that would truly make the both of them happy instead of furthering his rank in Cybertronian society.

"_I only wish for your prosperity,_" he'd said. He was already the _Prime_ for Primus sake! He could place Orian in any occupational position he saw fit. There was nowhere for him to climb to.

Megatronus slung an arm around Orian's shoulderbolts again, giving them a firm, but awkward side hug. "If Sentinel is to speak up over this, I will vouch in your favor," he promised. It was issues such as these that Megatronus found he could be passionate about. Unjustly forcing your young to bond with another they do not wish for is a lesser form of slavery in his opinion, and it would not stand. That was one of the reasons he wished to be High Protector of Cybertron some orn.

Orian grinned, leaning into his companion's grasp. "And if he is to speak up over yourself and your femme, I shall vouch in your favor."

Megatronus' cycling caught in his vents and he coughed, choking on the air accidentally. Orian looked to him with a confused expression, not quite understanding why the gladiator was reacting so violently to such a well-meaning gesture. Megatronus could feel his optics watering, the cycling systems in his chassis knocked out of rhythm. He pounded his fist onto his upper chassis, trying to regain himself. It seemed his venting had returned to him, and he gave a shuddering cycle.

"The femme and I..." he broke off, coughing again, "are nothing but acquaintances. She is merely a medic whom repaired me."

"Or is she?" Orian pressed, giving an all-too-knowing smile that put annoyance in Megatronus' features. "When you speak of her, there is an edge to it that I cannot help but notice, brother. She is more than a medic, is she not?"

Megatronus looked away, not quite willing to lie, yet not so senseless as to allow his true thoughts to be exposed yet either. Truly, he was not quite sure himself of his feelings as of this time, so it was better he not trick his brother in thinking something that may not even be sincere. Orian raised his own arm around Megatronus' shoulderbolts, mimicking the gladiator as he gave his own reinsurance. "So it seems as though we both are helplessly struck. Do you care to share your encounter?"

Megatronus glanced at the mech beside him and he found Orian with his digit raised, the probe at the tip exposed. For a moment, he considered declining, but really, who was he to refuse a chance at sharing his raging processor with his brother? If anyone else had asked to delve into his processor, he would have immediately brushed them off. Especially Sentinel. However, he could never do so to Orian.

The gladiator raised his own servo, plugging the tip of his digit into the port at the base of Orian's helm. His brother did the same in turn, reaching behind his comrade's cranial unit to enter his own digit into Megatronus' interface port at the back of his neck.

At first, there was nothing. The normal firewalls produced themselves, but were taken down by their owners just as quickly as they had appeared. Megatronus pushed himself forward into the calm, freshness of his brother's consciousness, revitalizing himself in the refreshing sense of tranquility he got whenever he entered Orian's mind. The red and blue mech beside him entered into the storm of his processor, moving expertly through the tarring struggles of the past and future, and moving through the wars waging between mind and action every astrosecond of his life cycle.

The tenseness in Megatronus' frame eased, and he was able to cruise at a better speed through his brother's files and memories. They had done this many times before, when they had been younger, so every secret and hindrance in their relationship was already known by the other. Orian was easily able to follow Megatronus' lead as he too reached the gladiator's memory core and began sifting through his files. Unlike Orian's processor, which was open completely and fully to his wandering brother, Megatronus' own CPU was blocked at some points so to better protect the virtue of the youth. There were some things that were not meant to be shared yet.

Orian passed the locked files Megatronus had sealed and he moved on, not even taking a moment to possibly open them. The first times Megatronus had begun to block off his brother had both confused and hurt Orian, which in turn, hurt him. However, as time drew on, Orian had come to understand Megatronus' reasons, and he respectively kept his distance. Now, he acted as though they weren't even there, and he directed himself towards the newer addition to the memory core. Megatronus sadly moved on himself, knowing that some orn, he would no longer be able to keep his life cycle away from Orian, and he would have to share those memories. But for now, he would lock them away, deep as he could, for as long as he could.

_Sentinel does not know of what you do Megatronus_, Orian murmured through their connection, sending forth a wave of comfort to the melancholy mech. Megatronus accepted the gesture, but he didn't respond, unwilling to bring his comrade into his own personal matters. It was kept between both brothers that Sentinel was not to know of Megatronus' participation in the gladiator pits, for if he figured this out about a youngling he had raised, the outcome would be catastrophic.

Megatronus' participation in the pits was meant solely for research, and, secretly, as a way to defy Sentinel in what he wanted. It was well-known that a long line of Cybertronian High Lord Protectorates came from the pits of Kaon, meaning that the best chance that he held for the position would be to take part along with his fellow mechs and femmes. It was not something that he had enjoyed at first, however, as the time passed, he feared he may be starting to actually enjoy doing his work.

No. No, he wouldn't fall for it. He swore he wouldn't lose himself. If he was to deadspark in that arena, it would be as himself.

Megatronus forced himself further into Orian's files, allowing him to find some distraction from the fears and terrors he always found himself in these past orns. It didn't take him long to find the newer files from the past orn, so he swiftly opened them and allowed himself to be drug from his own poisoned consciousness to one of a better purity. Time and reality blurred by in an odd way, distorting the pictures and files as they searched and scanned along their appointed path. Actions waged, faceplates surfaced (some which Megatronus internally growled at), and a single point of the entire trip became crisp and incredibly vivid.

Orian's processor had always been the one to appreciate the smaller things of his life cycle. Therefore, when Megatronus entered the young one's consciousness, he was met with the most amazing of sights and details, most which he hadn't noticed initially. Among this scene now was a gentler feel, one of contentment and serenity. Beautiful constructs of artistic statues and crystal-lined sculptures filed down the stretch of fountain located in the center of the plaza. Cybertronian wildlife milled with civilians, interacting with the mechs and femmes and playing along with the younglings.

Squeals of happiness picked up all around Megatronus as he gaze through his brother's optics, taking in every small fixture of the refreshing airs and almost surreal glow of the area around him. Only one place on Cybertron could contain such a compliment between these incredible forms of cultural and aesthetic peace: Praxus.

Orian's gaze at the time swept the expanse of Praxus' main square, taking in everything at an almost overwhelming rate. From the gleaming spirals of the constructs bowed at the perimeter of Praxus Central Hall, to the tiny black shadows given off by the sparkling sitting against its creators as they lounged and conversed at a picnic, to the distant trails of smoke left behind by fliers coming in from Vos to land on the nearby strip in the upper third district. The slightest gush of moving air would break apart the drifting vapors, causing them to turn a softer white and finally fade from sight.

No time was given for Megatronus to fully digest the sight, for Orian's attention had now turned down, where he spotted the form of a lighter pink femme, crouched over a small clutch of sparklings and younglings. They were by a fenced-in pen nearby the fountain, surrounded by about five or so sparklings and younglings. After a moment, bubbling laughter filled the air, and the elder younglings of the small group grabbed the younger sparklings, and bounded off towards the play area to have fun. In the femme's arms, she cradled a newly created sparkling, no older than half a vorn, its thumb link stuck in its mouth. An interested emotion connected with the file was felt by Megatronus, and he watched as Orian boldly stared at the femme until she turned.

At this angle, one could make out the majority of her faceplates and form. Her helm was arched forward, her digits wagging in play with the tiny mechling in her grasp. A smile stretched over her obviously attractive features, capturing Orian's spark immediately. The mech was rooted to the spot, drawn to this figure despite himself. Megatronus snorted in amusement as the femme glanced up and locked optics with Orian, her smile broadening into a friendlier one and causing a bluish blush to flush Orian's cheekplates.

Within the click, Orian had mustered enough courage to approach the femme, giving Megatronus a closer look at her overall appearance. There was no armor on her frame, but a simple mix of metal slips used for cosmetic and basic protection purposes. The rosy hue of her helm rounded back to curve at the rear, flowing downward in a plain, but oddly fitting, shape. The rest of her covering was smooth and fitted, showing off her figure well. Though, knowing Orian, the gentlemech was more taken by her smile and optics than any frame shape. So like him.

It was true that the mech had fumbled with his words around the femme, for Megatronus had to contain himself as laughter bubbled in his throat and threatened to spill forth. First of all, Orian used contractions, which he usually never spoke with. Secondly, the simplest questions from the femme seemed to take him longer to answer than they should have. And third, the mech was purely ungraceful in anything he did around her. It must have been the flurry of emotion and mental activity linked with this file. Megatronus himself was becoming flustered by it all.

"You are a very handsome mech Orian, I was sure you would have been involved with another femme by now. One of an Apex class such as yourself usually would not be seen speaking with a Mezzo class such as I," Ariel commented at one point, now sitting with Orian as Ariel watched her sparkling clutch play in the near distance.

Orian could be felt to shift uncomfortably, the femme's words affecting him more than what Megatronus would have figured. "True, but they aren't as comfortable around the lower classes as I am," he said. He suddenly jumped, and Ariel looked at him curiously as his servos flapped around oddly, "I-I meant nothing by it of course! I expected yourself to be of the highest of Apex class femmes the way you held yourself. No-not that there's anything wrong wi-with being a M-Mezzo class femme! They are among my closest friends on Cybertron, and I try my best to make sure they get the best benefits possible!"

A good save. An uncouth and messy one, but one nonetheless. Ariel's optic ridge rose, her lip plates tilted. "You are suggesting they cannot provide for themselves?"

"No, I mean, yes...no, no I don't mean they can't provide for themselves," he told her, then shook his helm once, trying to clear the stumble. Megatronus felt empathy for the young mech, and pushed forth a feeling of comfort and support to the fellow pupil. Orian returned the gesture with a thankful one of his own. Ariel also seemed to feel some form of pity for the poor spark, and she reached over to lay her servo over his own. Immediately, a feeling of heat stretched into Megatronus' processor and he grinned in entertainment. This mech was really helm over heelpeds, wasn't he?

"Do not worry Orian, you do not offend me," Ariel said warmly. "I have a thicker hide than I appear to, and I can handle simple comments made by others about my peers."

"But I never meant-"

"Shush, you silly mech." She was giggling a bit, and used the servo that wasn't holding the sparkling to press a digit to his lips, shutting him up. "You are one of the first Apex-class mechs I have met that truly respects my feelings on these subjects. For that, I'm thankful." Another one of her stunning smiles appeared and Megatronus felt Orian's spark skip a beat. What a young infatuation.

Ariel patted Orian's servo one last time and stood, giving him a word of appreciation before she started off towards her clutch. Orian jumped from where he sat, starting after her without a moment's hesitation. Grabbing her arm, the mech swung Ariel around, much to her surprise, and he opened his lip plates as if to say something, only to snap them shut.

"May I...help you?" Ariel inquired, shifting the sparkling in her arms.

"I...well, I...enjoyed my time...with you Ariel, and I wondered if...maybe...yo-you wouldn't mind if...I-I got your comlink data?"

Took the mech fragging long enough.

Ariel grinned again, purely happy with the mech's request. She then twisted around and collected a spare note tablet from her hipbolt, scribbling a few things on it before handing it to Orian. "I was beginning to worry you wouldn't ask," she said, and came nearer, stretching up on her toelinks to press a small kiss to Orian's cheekplate. Instant warmth spread over Orian's faceplates and Megatronus almost burst out right then and there. What a sight to see, his brother becoming so disturbed by a simple femme! Priceless.

And thus, Megatronus retracted from Orian's memories, in a better mood than before. This was why he shared his files with Orian: to get this feeling of relief and reassurance that he wasn't the most clumsy mech in the worlds right now. Orian also drew from Megatronus' memory core, his own features peaceful and interested.

"She is a beautiful femme," Orian complimented after completely pulling from Megatronus' CPU.

Without someone in his processor now, Megatronus rolled his neck and stretched his sore limbs, not sure why he would be so stiff after merely a few clicks of sharing files. "Ariel is as well," he nodded at Orian and the mech averted his faceplates, the surface growing faintly blue. "And she seemed interested in you Orian. I encourage you to contact her and set up another meeting. She appears to be the femme who prefers the mech to make the first approach."

"But I am unsure of how to do so Megatronus, my entire processor is in a fritz. I cannot stop processing her image or hearing her voice. It is true she is beautiful, and that she is extremely kind and caring, but there is something about her presence that breaks me down and caused my logic systems to stall."

"You have it _bad_ Orian," Megatronus said as he began to laugh, no longer able to hold it in. His hearty chuckles carried across the dim early orn skies, bouncing off the alleyways below them in an eerie echo.

Orian frowned, only making his comrade chortle harder. "What have I Megatronus?" he wondered innocently. Megatronus calmed down enough to regain some of his venting, liquid building by the rims of his optics.

"Love Orian. You are hopelessly, unbelievably in love with Ariel."

"Bu-but that's impossible! I've only met her this orn!" And there go the contractions.

"Lies. You are a horrible fibber my brother. Your words and frame betray you."

It was true, for the whole mech was leaking pure evidence of Megatronus' claims. Shakes wracked Orian's thin armoring from something more than just chill. The abuse of his words along with the unmistakable hint of azure in his faceplates tricked his processor into failing his attempts at hiding the one truth. Megatronus knew Orian too well now. Even if the mech did somehow becoming convincing at his fibbing, Megatronus would still know.

"And what of your reactions towards that femme? Are they not the same as I?" Orian challenged, causing Megatronus to fall quiet. The larger of the peers snorted and sent his brother a withering glare, his laughter dying instantly.

"She is simply my medic for the time being," he blew off. "I was acting with my interface cable, not my processor Orian. It is not love that made me behave that way." At this, Orian's faceplates contorted into a more abashed shade. Megatronus' crude and often unrestricted language around him made the mech uncomfortable at some times, considering he was such a uniform and mannerly being.

"Then what of when you handed over your comlink data without her explicit request? It was almost as if you truly _wanted _to grant her your data."

"I _wanted_ her to cease her incessant hovering, thus explaining my reasons in giving her my data. It was purely professional. Nothing more."

Megatronus' snappish reply caused Orian to sigh. The cyberling must be used to receiving such fiery words from his brother, or he would have certainly been offended. Megatronus huffed and darted away his gaze, once again facing it to the vast displays of Iacon architecture. He wouldn't admit that Orian was right, nor that he himself was wrong either. There was a sort of stubbornness and pride in Megatronus he dare not break. Orian however, had no problem in expressing his helpless attraction.

"She will be expecting to see you this orn I presume?" Orian ventured, watching Megatronus from the corner of his optic. The larger storm-grey mech's chassis rumbled and he reached up his arms in a long, creaking stretch. A loud pop sounded from his shoulderbolt and a release of tension flow over him.

Air gushed from Megatronus' vents in pleasure when he came to see Orian again. "Do not develop any ideals over this Orian, it is simply an arranged meeting to discuss my health."

A cheeky grin stretched over Orian's faceplates, his shyer nature now gone. "Of course Megatronus, of course."

* * *

><p>Waiting in a swollen mass of Cybertronian bodies, a medical room sit tucked far into the back of the building. Colorful shapes and images, meant for the tinier sparks flashed by on a holo emitter attached to the wall. Brightly shaded mesh curtains separate each berth, but a constant habit was made by the patients to leave their areas wide open to others. Amidst the collected, berths remain occupied by the younger of their species. Younglings, sparklings, and even a few cyberlings surrounded a single berth in the middle of them all, their varying shading of optics focused curiously on a hulking figure in the back. Nervous creators hovered near their young ones, holding them back from approaching said figure, or worst, speaking with him.<p>

The visitor himself appeared ridiculous in the gathered mass of offspring. His gladiator armoring made it impossible to settle correctly on the short medical surface, while his longer limbs were forced to fold up into his chassis. His peds touched the ground, shoving his kneebolts into his vents. An annoyed feeling passed through him long ago, which had steadily turn to embarrassment, and utter frustration. Blue optics had dimmed to a lighter hue, with a grayish hint to them that suggested he wished to offline them. Sharp claws for his digits curled around his inclined legs. Many times now, he'd thought about leaving. Who was he to stay here and take this degrading torture?

But then, Euphoria would message him about waiting for only a few clicks longer, and his peds would simply refuse to move. Each sent message sparked an odd sense of warmth inside his core, and the mech was left to the mercy of twenty or so prying tiny pairs of optics as he awaited his own turn.

Various patients around him were already treated, their limbs in slings, their tears patched, and a few of the more seriously injured lying back in rest on their own berths. Megatronus tightened his hold on his kneebolts for the hundredth time, the tips of his sharp digits scratching the surface of his paint. In the corner of his vision, a small movement caught his attention, and the large mech shifted his gaze towards it.

A slight sparkling, near its youngling stage, was sliding across its berth in a sort of mild entertainment. By the appearance of their frame, and the way they moved so heavily, Megatronus knew right away it was a mechling. The red, blue, and white sparkling was playing dangerously close to the edge of his berth. He seemed too occupied with a trinket in his servos to see that he was shimmying toward the lip of his berth, and Megatronus perked up to attention. A quick jerk of the little mech's body sent him over the edge with a startled squeak.

Other mechs and femmes on sight jumped to the sparkling's aid, but it was clear they wouldn't reach him in time. Megatronus however was close enough to help, and he leapt from his perch, using his longer reach to simply lunge forward and catch the flailing sparkling. A single servo was large enough to hold the mechling, and Megatronus was able to save him from a certainly painful tumble. The small one in his palm rolled over onto his aft, focusing large, round optics on his savior.

Megatronus froze in that instant, not quite sure what to do next. The image of the fragile life sitting in his dangerous servos made his processor whir apprehensively. What if the mechling broke apart in his grasp? What if he crushed him by accident? What if the others attack him because they believe he was to harm the sparkling?

Every vent ceased cycling as Megatronus rose himself up, carefully keeping the sparkling away from his body. Flustered wires rushed against his CPU, overwhelming it with possibilities, demands, and the sight of every mech and femme standing and staring at him. His energon pumped harshly throughout him, his nervousness clear. He was afraid they may hear his beating pump.

And then, as if Primus himself had sent her, Euphoria and another mech walked into the room. They immediately noticed the strange still that had taken up the space, and the sapphire femme and yellowish-green mech directed their optics to Megatronus. A quiet lock of their three set looks paused Megatronus further, and he grew flustered about what to do next. To knock them back to reality, the gladiator lifted the servo holding the mechling, his faceplates dubious. Euphoria was first to act, starting forward briskly toward the mech and sparkling.

"Smokescreen, you silly mechling," she cooed as she approached. "What happened?"

Megatronus knitted his optic ridges together in the most scolding way he could, and he peered down at the sparkling he held. "He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, and as a result, he fell." His voice sounded low and menacing, and Smokescreen's optics went wide on hearing it. Sudden fear crept into those innocent optics, and Megatronus felt his spark jolt. Did he go too far? Smokescreen clung onto Euphoria as the femme lifted him into her arms, her servo touching the back of his helm.

"Shush Smokescreen, you are alright," she murmured into his audio. Her helm angled to Megatronus, and he saw her grin stretching over her features. "Thank you Megatronus, I am sure Smokescreen is appreciative you saved him. He is simply a shyer thing."

"It is...alright," Megatronus murmured as he stopped and watched the femme, vaguely wondering how it was that they held such natural talent at taming the youths. Smokescreen slowly shoved his helm under Euphoria's chin, his still-wet optics aimed up at Megatronus. The gladiator tried to create a better expression for the sparkling by relaxing his faceplates and smiling down at him, but Smokescreen merely squeaked again, turning away.

The mech whom had followed Euphoria in came by her side, his gaze studying his apparent patient. "I apologize for placing you in this wing of the medical facility Megatronus, but it appears as though our mech wing is full with gladiators and militia," he explained. "My designation is Ratchet, and I am the SIC medic below the Chief Medical Officer Wingnut." He gestured to Euphoria, "And his femme beside me is my colleague Euphoria, this facility's TIC." The mech offered his arm in greeting, which Megatronus accepted and properly grabbed bracers with.

"Greetings Ratchet," Megatronus greeted. "I am already familiar with Euphoria, thank you." He took note of this mech's appearance for later reference. He seemed as if he had been in his Cybertronian frame for some time now, but he could not be more than ten vorns elder than Megatronus. The features of his faceplates were set in a permanent scrutinizing way, as if he were constantly watching and studying. It put a cold edge in his spark to see Ratchet so close to Euphoria, his arm around her shoulders. Was there a protective hint in his expression?

Euphoria bounced Smokescreen a few times before handing him off to Ratchet. Smokescreen was less abash than before, and was now observing around him in a more alert fashion. When he met gazes with Megatronus, there was still a hesitant shake in his optics, but he broke the contact far less than before. The medic femme came forward and shamelessly took Megatronus' servo in her own, her far smaller digits wrapping around only three of his. A kind grin graced her beautiful profile and she jerked her helm behind her.

"Why don't we relocate you to a more proper location so Ratchet and I may examine you in peace, hmm?" she suggested lightly, already leading him away. Megatronus found himself speechless as he followed behind. Ratchet was out of his peripheral view at the moment, but he felt the mech's optics burning into the back of his cranial unit.

Faint waves of electricity traveled up Megatronus' arm at Euphoria's touch, and he caught himself staring at their interlocked servos. This was the first femme to actually have no care that he was a gladiator from Kaon, and approach him with such ease and comfort. Others would have surely bolted when he initially spoke with them. It had become a common occurrence for him to experience never talking to others as much as he did to Orian or his gladiator counterparts. However, this one was different. Ratchet obviously was not trusting of him, if the constant, subtle glares sent his way as the mech walked beside himself and Euphoria was any evidence. Euphoria on the other servo treated him as any other Cybertronian citizen. Not even the medics of the gladiator pits were as eased around him as she. Did she understand he was champion?

Their group traveled through the lengthy halls of the facility, their steps echoing hollowly off the metallic walls. Other patients and medibots walked by, blatantly watching Megatronus as he traveled along with the delicate nurse femme. It wasn't long before they turned one last corner and ended up by a small room reserved in one of the many military-designated areas. Multiple series of injured mechs, femmes, and aids milled about around Megatronus and Euphoria as they passed by to get at the entrances down the corridors. Crowding frames slipped by one another and brushed by every so often. A rushing mech medibot plowed by, knocking into Euphoria. Her shoulderbolt was hit so hard that she stumbled back into Megatronus, and he lifted his servos to steady her.

Megatronus ducked lower and quickly checked she was alright before he scowled and straightened, his arm flashing out to catch the medic whom had hit his femme guide. A purple and blue mech, he bore the shining emblem of his medical occupation on his right shoulderbolt. He must have been a younger Cybertronian, for his frame did not appear completely upgraded as of yet.

That did not stop Megatronus however from swinging the offender around, his one servo still on Euphoria's shoulderbolt. "Excuse yourself," he snapped. "You collided with this femme." His optic slips narrowed and the mech he addressed paused to look between him and Euphoria. After a few nanoclicks of silence, the mech drew up his lip plates in a smirk and snorted before curtly walking away. Megatronus, shocked, moved to grab the medic again. A servo came out and intercepted his arm however, pulling it down away from his target. It was Euphoria who had stopped Megatronus, and he found his arm held gently in her two slim servos.

"Please, let him go. I do not wish for a disturbance," she begged softly. Her faceplates were pleading and no longer wearing that bright smile she usually bore. Megatronus wished to argue, and he had full right to do so when she was requesting he back down from retaliating to insult. However, something kept him back. He hesitated for a mere moment when his spark slowed and his anger suddenly ebbed. Euphoria still gripped his arm, her optics begging him to step off. "That was Decker," she explained, looking where the mech had left, "he is a newer medic from Prolihex, and he has no respect for anybot but himself. Not even Wingnut has yet broken him."

Megatronus snorted and pulled his arm back away from Euphoria's grasp. No mech should be so openly disregarding, no matter his personal vendetta against the worlds. It irked Megatronus to simply ignore the fading figure in the sea of Cybertronians, but he drew his optics away despite this and allowed himself to simmer quietly. When Decker had disappeared completely, Megatronus shook his helm and began to follow behind Euphoria once again. Ratchet had come up beside her in Megatronus' distraction and was now chatting with her as they proceeded. A laugh unlike any Megatronus had heard before split her lip plates and his spark sputtered. Ratchet grinned as well, which swiftly snuffed out the moment faster than it had come.

A dark spike of irritation pumped through Megatronus' energon at seeing the mech so close and comfortable with Euphoria. But at the same time, he mentally wrung himself back to reality. What was this he was feeling? Why should he care if Ratchet is close to Euphoria? The mech must have been here for vorns now, and Euphoria did look like an apprentice. They must have known one another for some time.

Abruptly, Euphoria turned back to Megatronus and flashed him a grin before gesturing toward an open door. Megatronus shimmied between Ratchet and Euphoria to enter the room, momentarily separating them. Ratchet only huffed and backed up to allow Megatronus more mobility, not saying anything until the gladiator was inside the room and headed for the medical berth towards the back. A simpler room, it was sparsely furnished with but a single toolcart, observation light, berth, wash rack, and a set of drawers.

"Sit down, and Euphoria and I shall begin the examination," the elder medibot ordered, starting for the drawers. Euphoria hovered around the berth where Megatronus settled, her servos held before her and her gaze following her superior.

Megatronus couldn't help the action he made when his optics flicked over and became stuck on Euphoria's faceplates. Truly a work of art, she was attractive to the sight and gentle on the senses. Her helm was a sleeker design, while her chassis and pelvic covering was sharp and of a more modern style. The edges gleamed under the artificial lights of the ceiling, making sure to outline her best points. Thin layers of royal blue sheeting covered her hipbolts and wound down her legs to connect to her peds. It was not a usual sight these orns to see a femme covering her legs, for the most recent fad had been to show as much protoform as possible. This femme however, covered both her arms and legs. She was discreet, and it was for that reason that she gained Megatronus' respect.

The blue of her legs flared at the second half before coming down into a thicker heelped design. Another uncommon sight. Not only was her paint of a darker color, when the femmes of the vorn were wearing such colors as pink, yellow, gold, and green, but she was a femme with self-respect. Though, what caught his gaze was the almost unnoticeable twitch of an adornment on the side of her helm. It flickered in a sort of pattern, where the slightest noise or voice caused it to flutter. Was it a sort of amplifier device? Megatronus slimmed his optics, trying to study it harder. One twitch...two twitch...three twitch...four...

"Your observation would last longer if you took a picture, Megatronus," Euphoria's tone picked up and Megatronus jerked. His optics shuttered and opened over and over as he shook his helm. A sudden realization had him finding that he was indeed staring at this femme, and that she knew this fact made this further embarrassing. Megatronus shifted on the berth to direct himself forward again, and his shoulderbolts hunched. He strained to keep his azure optics ahead, more so focusing on Ratchet as the medibot walked to him to begin work on his frame.

But, no matter his attempts, Megatronus could not keep himself from stealing a glance beside him. He found Euphoria with her sights on the floor, her lip plates up in a grin. This nearly destroyed his abashment, and the gladiator returned to trailing Ratchet's quick movements as his digits danced around Megatronus' frame. Welds made here, wires replaced there, there truly was no major injuries sustained. It was when Ratchet reached Megatronus' kneebolt that he paused. He opened the pivotjoint panel and peered inside at the mobility mechanism.

Ratchet dipped a tool Megatronus did not recall into his pivotjoint and fiddled around for a split astrosecond before a sharp jolt ran up Megatronus' leg. The gladiator jumped and his digits locked around the lip of the berth. Ratchet pulled away at the mech's reaction and he called over Euphoria. The femme glided over and bent closer to Megatronus' limb, her expression concentrated. After a moment or so, both medics exchanged information on what they found. A still confused Megatronus could only listen into the foreign language before he interjected, leaning forward.

"I do not understand," Megatronus said. He tried to get a look inside his kneebolt, but failed. "What is ailing me?"

"It appears as though your kneebolt is cracked," Euphoria reported, giving him a concerned look. "It will have to be replaced."

Megatronus raised his optic ridges at the news, surprised. There hadn't been any severe pain from his leg that he'd known of. Perhaps his tolerance had risen. Or it could be possible that he'd shut off his pain receptors after his fight with Blackout and hadn't returned them to power. In any instance, injuries to the pivotjoints were exceptionally painful compared to the usual wounds made to arms, legs or the torso. It was shocking that Megatronus hadn't even a limp to show his discomfort.

Euphoria's lip plates went into a hard line and she lifted her servos, softly placing them on his kneebolt to observe it further. Megatronus vented a sigh, his spark dropping in disappointment. This could not do well on his championship in the pits. An impairment such as this could not be replaced so easily as it was during the early orns of the Golden Age.

"Unfortunately, you will be required to undergo physical recovery therapy to restrengthen the pivotjoint once it is replaced," Ratchet spoke, wiping his servos in a cloth to remove the grime. Euphoria closed off Megatronus' kneebolt panel and kept her servos there as she twisted her helm around to see Ratchet.

"I will assist him with the physical therapy Ratchet, it is my sector," she volunteered.

Ratchet set down his cloth and put his servos on his hipbolts, his optics disapproving. Megatronus' optic ridges burrowed at the mech's expression, and he ground his oral sheets. What had Megatronus done to frag off such an unhappy being?

"No, Euphoria. You are on initiation stage, therefore you are unable to accept private patients." A snap of the optics and Ratchet had caught his gaze with Megatronus'. The medic broke the contact with a cold calmness. "Physical recovery therapy is First Aid's area of expertise. Megatronus will report to him as seen fit by Wingnut's prescription."

Unnecessary tension was building between the two mechs, creating a thick sense of dislike whenever they were near one another. For reasons beyond Megatronus, there seemed to be some form of irritation Ratchet was getting when in the gladiator's presence. And Megatronus found he liked this distaste from the mech. Why was another question in the mech's processor at the moment- perhaps it was the sight of seeing the femme medic standing so near to the mech and the shy glances she stole of him. Whatever it was, it wasn't becoming enjoyable anymore, for Ratchet was formally rejecting any and all possibilities for the apprentice (his, Megatronus assumed) to be in the same area as him.

Sliding from atop the berth, Megatronus stood tall over Ratchet and the femme, using his size as a deterring factor in the Cybertronians' disagreement. "That will not be necessary Ratchet, for I am perfectly able to perform my own diagnostic if I see fit," he said. He rolled an arm, relishing the feel as the pivotjoint there popped and released a wave of knotted wires and parts. "The medics residing in the pits are more than qualified to see to my needs." Glaring optics, full of a silent warning for argument, shot the medic's way, and the yellowish-green mech huff indignantly.

A deeply blue femme lifted her servos, open, as if she wished to jump in, but she seemed unsure to get in the middle of this fiery battle of whims. Megatronus admitted that Ratchet was a stubborn one, and purely wasn't afraid of displaying his authority, however he didn't appear that much of a fighter. The young squabbler was wisely a speaker mech than a warrior. A sneer crawled underneath Megatronus' faceplates, to which he gave Ratchet easily, and the medibot shook his helm in annoyance.

"Megatronus, I ask of you to leave here if you are so certain of your condition," he offered, twisting around and gesturing for the door. An almost hopeful gleam edged the mech's optics, ones that were doused in an untouched white hue. A gladiator at spark, Megatronus was adamant on leaving on his own terms, therefore he didn't immediately move.

Euphoria stood loyally beside him, watching the side of his profile with curious, pearl-colored optics of her own. "Megatronus...?"

"I will," he spat back at Ratchet, stalking forward with his peds thumping deliberately strongly against the hollow floors. Not once did he peer backwards at the femme whom had helped him, nor did he allow himself the pleasure of giving the snobbish Mezzo-class medic a quick strike to the noseplate. It would do him no good to return to Orian and Sentinel Prime in energon cuffs and Cybertronian elites on either sides of him. His mentor already disapproved of his behavior. Mainly, it was Orian who influenced Megatronus' will to walk away - to step out the doors and ignore the whining of his spark for Euphoria's bright smile and wandering gaze.

Attached stares followed his every move throughout the aid center while he passed. This was a fairly heavy reason the gladiators usually refused treatment at the main centers, for fear of this discrimination. And with himself being an Alpha-class mech gladiator, the urge to fix ones optics on him was too great. The progeny of Sentinel; a brother to the quickly arising Orian Pax; the rightful heir to the Cybertronian Matrix of Leadership; a barbaric, sparkless killer gladiator from the lowest of Kaon; so many whispers and murmurs attacking his sensitive audios. And yet he pushed away most, already used to hearing impudent, meaningless gossip such as this.

Little, tiny blazes surged within Megatronus' frame, threatening to burst the longer he roamed outside of the pits or his Iacon domain. Here, it was merely misinformed, ignorant Cybertronian femmes and mechs who wanted nothing more than to rid their planet of the higher caste. And yet, in their rash blindness, they lead lives dedicated solely to their leading Prime and fantastical deity. It was all pompous nonsense to a fighter such as Megatronus, as it was for those in the lower Terminal-class. What upper creature would leave his disciples for ruin and tragedy? For failure? Megatronus believed in no such slave worship.

Boarding the holorails now, aimed for Iacon and the audience of his younger sibling, Megatronus made his position by the rear of the cart, allowing those before him to shuffle nervously away and congregate by the upper half of the moving transport. A sigh rattled the tired frame, the ashy grey of the silvery substance but a glimmering addition to his already intimidating presence. Gladiators saw no wrong in being feared, however, it had been Megatronus whom desired nothing more than to protect those who became terrified of him. Already he had applied for High Lord Protectorate, ready to stand in the airs of the political stream in hopes of securing his spot as the next Prime succeeding Sentinel.

Sharp discomfort spiked on Megatronus' left side, and he grabbed at it, an almost indistinguishable wince crossing his expression. It was a constant throb, one that quickly grew more bothersome than painful. All this felt could be concealed and dealt with at a later time - more so suppressed than concerned about at the current moment. Still the burning continued, causing a low hiss to escape the great figure's lip plates. This in turn received a jerk from the unsettled crowd around him, with a few inching away in uneasiness. Such petty fears, for one which doesn't even exhibit a want to harm. At least, Megatronus had the reminder that perhaps they weren't always to fear him. Maybe, at some later point, they could come to follow a stature who was indeed real to both the optic and spark.

* * *

><p>Unsure.<p>

Worried.

Pleading.

These all apart of the same being. One, who should never of been placed in this position in the first place: Orian Pax.

Megatronus felt his spark pulled and twisting in the event of seeing such displeasure in a comrade so close to him. More so than that of his wound egging at his side and kneebolt. Sentinel had called upon him, through the innocence of the one he deemed his protégé, and now Orian remain striding by his elder peer's side, his legs for now too short to possibly move with the grace of an Alpha-class as he had been raised. Megatronus was angered by the stunt of the bold mech, finding his tactics of communication cowardly and audacious.

Entering the Prime's chamber bore no better results, for the gladiator and his student brother came into an awaiting, broadly evident silhouette patiently in wait by the front of his sturdy desk. A simpler space, there was but a cluttered series of compads and documents scattered precariously amongst Sentinel's desk, shelves holding holocubes full of Cybertronian data and history, and a wide view of the planet of which he controlled behind spotless crystalline glass windows.

Tempest storms already raged both in the distant horizon and in Sentinel's gaze, putting hesitance in the already frayed Orian and a deeper seething in a ruffled Megatronus. A single compad lay before any of the others, laid specifically atop the others as a means of intimate attention. Across the front was a boldly printed title and script concerning one single mech among them. Snapping his optics back, Megatronus completely prepared himself for the wrath of this obviously discontent Prime.

Sentinel was grinding his oral sheets, the mechanisms straining in his jaw, while his servos locked behind him. "Megatronus, I wished to speak with you concerning recent...behaviors I felt we needed to discuss."

"It is not in my interests to attempt supporting claims to decisions I have made as a fully upgraded mech of Cybertronian society," Megatronus retorted hotly, minding the level of his tone in Orian's company. No need to make any further fright for him. H

owever, Sentinel seemed unwilling to recognize the cyberling's state, for he came forward and scowled under highly strict and hardened blue optics. "Spoken as a _gladiator,_" he drew out the word in disgust, his faceplates crinkling. "However, my kin are of no occupational currency, correct?"

Megatronus, his core cold as the iron alloy making his frame, met his adoptive figure with a challenging and rebellious glare of his own, taking pride in the utter glower Sentinel gained when noting the defiant spark in his apprentice. "I am able to choose my own paths in this life cycle Sentinel, you are not to decide them for me."

"That is not validate reasoning to dictate your perseverance towards such an abominable sport!" he roared, his height increasing in his agitation so he was optic to optic with his student. "Such deplorable acts such as this deserve correctional attention at the academy, not a promotional standpoint in our political hierarchy."

"It is merely for credential gain to power my own diplomatic education, seeing as you refuse to excel Orian and I in such branches-"

"Silence, Megatronus!" Sentinel barked, causing Orian to jerk against the gladiator. Megatronus snapped his jaw shut, his optics a scorching haze. "Heed this warning to you, that I have thankfully the merciful passion of this orn, by the sure will of Primus, that you will secede from this frivolous game and retire to the proper education I generously provide to you. As of this click, I shall decline the application of your promotion, as High Lord Protectorate, for you have greatly disappointed me Megatronus, as well as-"

"Sentinel Prime, that is unjust!" Megatronus argued, starting forward with an open servo. "I have proven myself worthy tenfold above those in the ranks for the position of High Lord Protector-"

At this moment, a flat palm rapped across the cheekplate of the steadfast mech, sending him stumbling aside into the form of his comrade. Orian was swift in catching Megatronus, however, the smite had done its job, and the shock settled immediately in the space for the two students against their mentor. Frozen sparks drew quiet, sending the walls in a silent fit of deafening soundlessness. Sentinel held his servo high, retracted against his pupil with an unforgiving mix of emotions raging along his features. Stinging tingles prickled along the side of Megatronus' cranial unit, his helm turned to the side with the pure force behind the strike. Disbelieving, Orian switched from Megatronus to Sentinel with wide optics.

"Do not dare interrupt me," the Prime rumbled lowly, sending but a ringing chill against the heated moment. These words sent Megatronus' surprise and inner hurt to a withering level, his anger and injured dignity sending enraged flashes over his metallic faceplates. Orian begged him oh so subtly to stand down against their mech figure, maybe asking that this be settled another time. It was events such as these that Megatronus wished he shared a true sibling bond with Orian, if only to express his condition of his growing dislike toward Sentinel.

Hesitantly, the gladiator swallowed his pride and stood in stiff straightness before his Prime, his shoulderbolts squared and his body language showing nothing of what he felt beneath the armor. Sentinel didn't appear as flustered as before, however, there was that ever present icy tone in his gaze, showing his ruthless inner side.

"This brash profession you have associated not only yourself with, but Orian and I by, will come to an end by the latter of this orn, compute?" Sentinel demanded in a barely withheld growl. "And if not, then there will be weighty consequences to pay by."

"Of course Sentinel," Megatronus spoke on practiced glossa, not biding himself to waste energy on somebot such as this. He wasn't worth the time.

The Prime nodded and flicked his servo, curtly dismissing the both of them without a single word. Megatronus stole himself away before he gave himself the chance to speak up against the ridiculous mech. Orian followed close on his heelpeds until they reached the shared chambers they had by the front upper level of the structure. Together, they ventured to their berths, both using their own ways of climbing on the familiar constructs.

The gladiator rolled along on his spinal support, resting weary limbs as he lied with servos over his tanks and a single leg propped up at the kneebolt. Orian, on the other side of the floor, sat with legs hanging over the lip of his luxurious recharging spot, his servos knitted awkwardly in his lap while his optics searched the shape of his comrade's faceplates.

A sense of awkward tension crossed Megatronus and his vents released a sigh, his helm tilting to face his worrisome companion. "Something is on your processor Orian," he assumed.

Apprehensive at first, Orian waited around a click before making any sound, his gaze holding steadily with Megatronus'. "Are you alright?" His voice carried soft and gentle, as though fearing he may break Megatronus with its sound, or Sentinel may very well overhear them and reprimand them both for speaking of the past. Megatronus felt a warmer glow in his spark with the concern of his brother, a smaller grin playing with the ends of his lip plates. His direction turned to the ceiling above, which contained various designs and doodles made by the gladiator over the vorns in Sentinel's shadowing.

"A gladiator such as I suffer far worse Orian, do not place unnecessary concerns on me. Your studies are further in importance."

"Further in importance than my brother? I do not see the possibility in that claim Megatronus," Orian argued back, his optic ridges coming down. Always the one of the both of them to lay extra worry on smaller events. Megatronus mused on the lesser times of his life cycle, finding a frown marring his faceplates in short time. Orian must have been suspicious of the quiet, for he stepped down his perch and walked to his brother. "Megatronus, there is nothing more important than yourself and Sentinel in my life at the moment." The gladiator curled his noseplate at the Prime's mention. "And perhaps Ariel shall become so highly seen in my view in time. However, that does not leave room in my comprehension to accept the obviously bothered state of a member in this family unit."

"What family unit is this, where the mech of the premises hits his young?"

"Sentinel's ways are not always agreeable ones..." Orian agreed. "However, I do believe he merely wishes the best for you Megatronus. Maybe...perhaps resigning from the gladiator pits is the best ideal." His suggestion left a brief feeling of betrayal in Megatronus' spark.

_Such a misled, ignorant character Orian is_, he thought darkly. _Sentinel has influenced him too far now_. Unable to stand any more lecturing intervals by either mentor or student, Megatronus groaned and hefted himself to his peds, using his momentum to skillfully glide across the distance from berth to door in a split few nanoclicks. Orian again was behind him, a servo now on his arm.

"Where is it you are going Megatronus?" he inquired, curious but hurt. Gladiator met pupil with a shielded and withdrawn glance, the darting of his optics too quick to allow Orian a general idea of Megatronus' intentions.

"To the Helix Gardens," he answered in a clipped, short way. "I need time to process...alone."

But of course, as he exited, his brother left staring after him, Megatronus knew he wouldn't be alone. The message sat waiting command on his processor, the edge of his conscience humming in anticipation. As late orn breezes skirted across his frame and buffeted his faceplates with refreshing airs, he gained the confidence to send that message and start for the holorails. It was only when he had arrived at the transport station and the full reality of what he had done settled in and he nearly wished to kick himself. But it was too late to take it back.

~_Meet me at the Helix Gardens in one joor. I will be waited beside the crystal fountain, alone. There is something I must discuss with you_.~

* * *

><p><strong>I am loving writing Megatronus' character :D<strong>

**There's not much on him, so I've had to completely go off of Fanfics, Prime history, and good ol' imagination.**

**But I love complicated characters - the more difficult to read, the better!**

**Anywho, I hope you all enjoyed it,**

**feel free to favorite, follow, review, etc, the choice is yours :)**

**Thanks everyone!**


	3. The Never Simple Truth

**It's a late one guys! :D**

**No real rhyme or reason to when I post these chapters, but,**

**What the heck! :3**

**Things are picking up a bit, and I'm certainly enjoying what's developing.**

**I hope you guys find this chapter amusing XD**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

The Never Simple Truth

~_Error: relay processes failure in vital mechanisms resulting in automatic attempt in recovery softwares. Processing...processing...link has failed in recovery softwares, corrupted connection via vital relay programming. Central Processing Unit crashing...scanning memory core, saving memory core...failure in recovery...no solution found. Circuit abilities disabled, venting failures, energy levels depleting at an exponential rate, vocal processes crippled, spark signature rapidly wavering in unsteady patter...if continued, inevitable spark stall eminent. Researching possible adjacent recovery programs...researching...researching_.~

* * *

><p>A fool, anyone in particular, ignorant enough to allow themselves prey to the vulture of what was their life cycle neither deserved strength nor to take occupancy as a Gladiator. This, along with the facts of bodily preparation over a length of vorns, could, and would, partake in the selection process in the champion. Femme or mech, either is eligible, without discrimination in suffrage of the Kaonian Gladiatorial Council. They who deemed able of the leadership in the pits shall, and will, obtain full sovereignty concerning any mercy pleas made of the combatant or their opponent.<p>

Any and all who show weakness shall be struck down, in punishment or enlistment. Let this be the will of Primus, so help those already aligned with the AllSpark.

* * *

><p><strong>24,691 Vorns, 14 quartexes, 2 groons earlier<strong>:

Screaming, hollow bellows reached from eastern ends to west, blanketing the arena in chilling echos. Roaring waves of voices savagely called out their approval of the events before them, thrashing limbs and flashing things in excitement. Sparks pounded along with the beating of the stands - as if the pulse of Primus himself were beating oh so clearly beneath the metallic crust. Blaring rays of a star's caress shamelessly beat down upon the gathered in a continuous raging heat and blinding intensity. Confusing, disorienting visions swam in the nearly invisible waves, distorting the air and causing the strips of white splashed amidst the pooling azure energon to become beacons of incredible vividness.

Harsh courses of energized wind flowed carelessly rough through stressed vents, their systems whirring and vibrating. A sense of high overtook anything and everything, creating a want of recklessness and a lust for the life of their adversary. Growls and snarls tore as a scalding blade against the thick of the atmosphere, followed with resounding clashes and colliding that only enticed the woops and howls of the crowd further. Hunger danced in each gaze, spectator and participator, wanting the thrill of battle and the primitive drive of waging ones own life.

Deep green clashing, banging, melding with that of a slick silver, the masses so caught with the threatening venom spat between the dancing forms in the scarred field that they dare only encourage the two further.

_I kissed her_.

An enraged wrath solidified into a storm-grey frame whirled and struck down with powerful, overwhelming force. Total brutality erupted from one mech to the other, turning to low screeches and grunts as weapons thrust or batted. Green flashed forward, using brute mass as a battering ram to launch the wisp of grey and cerulean optics. But not before landing down, there was the mech again, moving on wicked peds to send their champion to the wall, pinned at the throat.

_I kissed her...and she kissed back_.

Struggling - of the most buried habits of survival. Blue trickled thickly over armor bore for the fighters, the hide so thick it appeared impenetrable. Tears made from the precious liquefied energy of the Cybertronians beaded off the dominant one's sight, down their concaving cheekplate, over the cracked sheets of their chassis, only to mix with that of the wound of their tanks that already continued to spill their life out across their ground. Claws dug deep into the vulnerable joints of their digits, making them squirm and grumble with affliction.

_Why did I...why did I do that? Why was that my only reaction to her? And why...why can I not stop thinking only of her?_

A lasting effort crossed their processor, sending the message over their fluttering and twitching limbs to end at their gore-stained servos gripped around the ones at their throat. Only distraction came from the profile of the femme dancing behind the gladiator's optic slips. Only death came from distraction. But through the influenced anger came a series of charges pushing on the fight to see another orn, and from it, came a fusion cannon charged a burning scarlet in the blank range of the enemy. Shock placed upon their features, and yet they could do nothing in time before a projectile launched from the mech's arm and flung him along the floor of the arena.

A streak of glowing blue followed them as a dotted tail, turning into streaking smudges as they slid over the surface of the ground. They rolled and slid, flinging limply around as a ragdoll would have done. And the grey wind started forward after them, coming down on the helpless form with a waning strength and a vicious will to keep on living. Their sword struck down, missing by a vent, before their opponent recovered and punched their faceplates, sending them back on their spinal support.

_If I die here...if this is where I deadspark...how am I to see her again? To demand she tell me why I think only of her? To seize her token of affection before the medic Ratchet will?_

The figure loomed over the prone champion, raising above to give the final hit. But a pause. A single, fatal pause of uncertainty in those still-sane optics. They were still the same being as the champion, and yet they couldn't find it in themselves to commit to kill for their own survival. That was what would get them killed.

The champion, brighter in his recognition of what was happening, shot up and took the one before him out at the kneebolts. A hulking figure, they came down with an enormous crash, for their frame was far heavier and wider than that of the champion's. They fell, and he rose, his sword appearing beneath the cannon mounted on his arm to stall the tip by their adversary's exposed neck. He could not feel. He wasn't able to feel if he was to live on. He could not allow himself to have doubt in his spark if he wanted to approval of the Gladiatorial Council. And thus, his name was called:

"Megatronus!"

Loud and clear, singing above that of the near crazed crowd seated in the seemingly boundless bowl of flickering dots of color. Femme and mech alike died down to turn their helms, along with the gladiator, to face the ones lounging amid the luxurious benches under the adorned roof. Their armor shone in almost all gold, small jewels found on neighboring planets encrusting the lavish crests of each headdress. All mechs, the only femmes stationed there were but green-sighted slaves and slinking consorts wrapped around the spoiled limbs of their masters.

Their leader, the said king of his gladiators, stood from the hot pink femme at his arm, her frame type and facial markings that of a senior-class consort. He himself bore the ruby optics of the warrior class, his faceplates marred in a deep frown. Hard, unforgiving optics stabbed avidly down upon the two taking part in his games, their edges narrowing. A staff in servo, his digits curled until the shaft shook. A simple step from his throne, above the others, lead to by a personal staircase, caused his complex and incredibly expensive armoring to ripple around him to make it appear as though he were a moving liquid. The star's light bounced off of him in blinding rays as he stepped into the light. A single arm raised, the thumb link aimed horizontally.

"Shall our champion grant mercy upon his opponent? Or," the resounding voice of Nightjade, the pit's sole leader, aroused the beast within the crowd when they replied with angered 'boos' and 'no', "shall he place death on his opponent?"

The reaction was instantaneous. The answer to Nightjade's question was but a deafening swell of chanting Cybertronians thirsty for the sight of one mech's death. Megatronus felt his spark growing energized with their unforgiving thrall, their stimulating courage putting his own feelings at bay for the sole purpose of life after the pits. Red optics turned down on him, heavy and full of cruel anticipation. The thumb link that aimed for east now pivoted down to south, the sentence made.

The gathered screamed ever impossibly louder with this ruling, while Megatronus' own reaction was not to be seen by his Pit Master, or those spectating his match. One in particular would only receive his true disgust by these primitive Cybertronians simply wishing to see their own murdered over and over for sport. And he faced them now, staring downward on the form of the dark green mech who rested on his servos and kneebolts, his frame shaking. Was it fright?

Megatronus clenched his fist, holding in his qualms and delaying any sense of feeling as he lifted the shining silver high. "May you rest with Primus, in his grasp. Your spark be joined in his so help the AllSpark, and-"

"P-please, please spare me. I don't want to die..."

The unsteady, choked words of the mech caused Megatronus to pause, his arm raised and his motors ready to land the last blow. The devastated faceplates aimed upward at Megatronus, begging for another chance. In that moment, Euphoria took the place of the mech, and the champion seriously questioned his willingness to end this. He was having harder and harder time convincing himself to strike, and the crowd was becoming impatient. But, and Megatronus tried showing it through his optics, there was only one who could leave here, or they were both to die by way of the arena traps. Surely this mech understood what he was getting into when he enrolled in this? Surely he knew he was to face the champion?

Megatronus gathered himself and regained his composure, his mask of indifference making the mech's optics widen in horror. "Your spark be joined with his, so help the AllSpark, and make way into life after death glorious and infinite, past the grief of mortality, with freedom from suffering. By the will of Primus, I free you of this life and your cast of iron prison into Primus' awaiting arms. Until all are one."

And he swiftly brought down his arm.

A sharp protest was cut short as the mech's helm separated from his body, landing with a _clank_ by Megatronus' starkly grey peds before swaying and then going still. The optics of white they once held were now black, their lip plates slack and their detached body slumped. Energon poured from the severed limb, washing over their frame as a new coat of paint, their frame sinking to the ground without the grace of a living being. Their chassis twitched a few lasting times as their spark fought to stay alight, but alas, it had to fade within the click. And finally, Megatronus stood back from the still Cybertronian to whip around and start for the exit, which now slowly cranked open.

The only regret Megatronus always kept when leaving his battles was that he never, ever, learned the name of the ones he'd killed.

* * *

><p>It wasn't a planned occurrence, and Megatronus certainly hadn't aimed to have audience with Euphoria in the Helix Gardens to attempt courting her. However, as their meeting had drawn on and their frames grew ever closer from Euphoria checking his injuries and spark, Megatronus found her beauty in the silvery light of the orbiting moons too great to ignore. And she hadn't hinted any resistance as their lip plates met. Therein, they found themselves, with Megatronus seated on the edge of the fountain, Euphoria caught in one servo as he held their helms close in their kiss. The warmth and energy had been too much to separate before a click, their humming frames burning with a new feeling Megatronus had yet to explain. Even now, he grew uneasy and excited from the memory of her so close, her frame melting into his.<p>

That moment of their lip plates touching, the soaring energy of their frames and the disturbing discomfort that came with her sudden separation. It all sent such tremors through Megatronus' core that he doubted his sanity was to stay in tact much longer. Orian couldn't know of this, for he certainly could never keep this information from Sentinel. Thus, Megatronus would be further shunned by his mentor. Though he highly sought no approval from the ridiculous figure, he didn't wish for more tension to ruin his orns.

But what was he to do about Euphoria? Standing in the Hall of Records, a compad in his servo, Megatronus remained with his digits hovering over the screen, the stylus in his grasp. He couldn't decide what to write or if there was a single holocube here to offer him any advice or historical reference, but he didn't seem capable to leave. Data file after data file he'd scanned, linked to, and searched its branching subjects. Not one had given him a single byte of useful facts. Truthfully, the one standing out to him most would be the psychological holocube holding the topic of mental instability.

Groaning in defeat, the gladiator tossed his compad atop the growing pile beside him, throwing it away with a disgusted snort. A few apprentices stacking holocubes around him glanced his way nervously, always anxious around the more volatile of their race. Archivists were naturally curious and peaceful, much like the qualities of Orian Pax. Megatronus however, merely stole a look either way of him towards the paused workers and continued his quest across the bowls of the Hall of Records. Grabbing a holocube to his high left, Megatronus input his personal library access code and watched in utter concentration at what laid before him.

Assistants made a wide berth past him when they made their way to his other side, their arms usually loaded full with differing holocubes. Elder archivists, most around Orian's age, did their work swiftly and with their faceplates averted in respect. It was interesting to see the diligent efforts given by each Cybertronian mech or femme as they did what they were programmed to do, all while not meeting gazes with him once. This fact was backed with the sight that each neither had blue nor golden optics, as a higher caste citizen would bare, but white and green optic hues, such as the Terminal and slave classes wore. What was Orian doing in an occupancy such as this? He was a blue-sight after all.

Setting his attentions back on his servos, he skimmed the information, coming up empty once more. This was but a record of Cybertronian wires system. Again he threw it beside him and jerked his helm from side to side, seeking out the right holocube.

"Do you require some assistance in what you seek?"

Megatronus' servo went still and he drew it back, his optic ridges coming down at hearing the unfamiliar voice. He turned on the rougher tone and tilted his helm downward upon a quite noble mech with thin, lavender-colored armoring and a sharp, V-shaped crest. An odd decorative piece had been fixed to his mandible point, gliding down his chassis and connecting to a smaller attachment on his upper lip plate. Rounded caps covered his shoulderbolts while a single spike stabbed from both. On his peds rested wide armoring, complete with slim plates covering the tops of either.

In his deep, vivid gaze, there lay an incredible sense of wisdom and kindness, his faceplates worn and aged. The strange white around his optics accented the hue of them quite nicely. Megatronus found himself wondering why he saw this figure so familiar. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, proud and yet humble, as if the weights of the worlds were on his shoulderbolts. One arm behind his spinal support, he walked around Megatronus and took a moment to glance around at the holocubes missing from the shelves.

A curious air surrounded the mech, with his odd faceplate decor and pointed shoulderbolts. Even his expression, as he set two digits on his chin while he searched the aligned stock, remained composed. Who was this figure, a Cybertronian truly unafraid of his company?

"Psychological anomalies," Megatronus answered finally in their silence, following the older being's arm as he stretched it high above him. "I fear as though there may be a defect in my processor I need to take care of."

"Why not see a medic? I hear Ratchet is a fine one from Blaster city."

Peeking from holocube to gladiator, the newer mech flicked his optics to see Megatronus from the corner of his vision. The fighter's mandible clenched as the designation arose, and he fought down his inner bitterness for the benefit of his research. It was no good for him to scare away a possible assist. No response came from him, seeing as if he was to speak he was sure his voice would be tainted in irritation.

There was no need to say a word for the mech however, as he smiled when he fully looked up from his holocube. He then placed it neatly atop the shelf and gestured for Megatronus to follow him. As he walked away, a hesitant gladiator swept his helm around him to see those gathered. They all stared, watching for his next action. Snorting, he straightened himself and strode after this mysterious Cybertronian through the ground level. They tread across the floor without conversation, giving Megatronus the opportunity to look around him.

A vast area, the Hall of Records was seemingly boundless as it soared high into Cyberton's skies and cut off into surrounding floors. Each floor was scored through the middle to allow a skylight to be placed, revealing the iridescent view of the sky beyond. A golden hue shined by the sight, acting as a one-way window for all inside. Gleaming rails rounded around each floor, with some Cybertronians milling into optic range as they read compads or rested against the rails. Spiraled stairs stretched along each, wide and shining a bright silver as Megatronus and his guide approached.

They climbed and climbed these infinite steps, never breaking to admire the floors they passed and never taking a moment for rest. When it felt as though their journey would not end, the mech leading Megatronus paused and peered beside him. He gave a soft "aha" and moved onto this unfamiliar level. The warrior shadowing him pressed on as well, slowly following behind as they passed through the various cases chocked full of old and dusty holocubes and compads. They didn't appear to of been in use for some time, as their neglect of activity was beginning to ware on their surface.

Nevertheless, further and further they went into the darkened catacomb of the Hall of Records, the more uncertain Megatronus became. He began to question the mech before him and he hurried to reach him, placing a servo on the guide's shoulderbolt.

"Are you certain this is the way?"

The mech turned, went silent, and screwed in his optic ridges. As if he were lost or confused, he observed the immediate area and then grabbed his chin again in thought. "It seems I have forgotten what it was we were looking for," he admitted. "My apologies." He sounded genuine enough, however that didn't stop the fact that Megatronus was obviously shocked. The gladiator was dumbstruck while he followed his guide with his optics as the Cybertronian paced over to the end of the shelves, looked around, and then came back. "And we are looking for...?"

"Psychological anomalies. The distractions in my processor-"

"Ah, right. Now I recall. Follow my lead."

Again they started, Megatronus trailing behind as his odd assistant brought him further into the depths of the building. It felt as though they were dragging on into a random location when the mech stopped, rubbed his chin in thought for the endless time, and turned to his counterpart. As if he had fritz a circuit, he asked Megatronus where they were headed. His patience was waning the longer they traveled, and he briefly wondered if he should take his chances in finding what he sought himself. However, his peer needed little hint to remember his path and he hurried over to a small corner of the fifteenth floor. Dust and other signs of aging covered the shelves and holocubes thickly in a blanket of age.

The mech bobbed and weaved, searching quickly through the grouped information catalysts before he jerked and his arm shot forward into the sea of fine powder. This caused a wave of particles to hit the immediate area. Megatronus found himself choking in the cloud, his servo waving side to side to clear before him. His optics squinted and he hacked again, struggling to vent properly. His helper was coughing as well and continued to do so long after the tendrils of silvery dust had gone.

Clearing his throat to expel the material was difficult, as it thickened when mixed with his fluids. A few puffs of this substance exploded from both mechs' venting systems as the last of it was found and ejected from them.

"Well..." the elder one of the two barked a few more times and shook his helm, "I figure I have found what it was you were looking for." His bulky digits brushed off the layers covering the holocube in his gasp, revealing an older model technology that Megatronus hadn't seen since the orns of his younglinghood. It was a faded azure color, with glowing veins covered as an intricate net over the surface. When activated, faint light shot through the trails and a holographic screen floated above.

Megatronus held out his servo when the object was given to him. It took some time for the information to load, which came to show how far their sciences had come since his creation. As the view of his interest flushed across the screen, he quickly skimmed it over. It took but a nanoclick for him to knit his optic ridges in confusion, and go over what he saw a few more times. He even swiped to the following pages, if but to make certain his optics did not deceive him. He then powered down the holocube and set his gaze on the one standing in front of him.

"This holocube is stocked with the wrong data," he said. He began to give the device back, however the mech he handed it to simply smiled in a confident manner and stepped back.

"It is the right one."

"But the title of this holocube is: _Affection and it's Qualities_. I require a central processing unit medical manual."

"I figure you shall find this adequate enough. Think of it as a gift from myself and the Hall of Records. Return it anytime you like."

"But this is-"

"What you're looking for. Just take it." The mech's servos came up, gesturing that he did not wish to take the object back. His grin was wide and bold, his optics aglow. The way he studied the gladiator put an uncertain twist in Megatronus' spark, and he awkwardly accepted the device with some apprehension. It was now that his guide decided to take his leave, rounding around Megatronus and walking away without so much as a farewell.

What inner secret did this mech contain that pushed him to grant Megatronus this information? How was this holocube, so different from what he originally planned to take out, meant to aid him in his inquiries? Such odd symptoms he'd felt over these orns since his meeting with Euphoria... They were not an unpleasant experience. Actually, quite the opposite. Could he feel them again?

Jerking to attention, Megatronus whipped around and reached forward, grabbing his former guide's arm before the mech could get far. He set wise, patient optics on the one holding him, his expression neither angered nor startled. "Wait," Megatronus called, his digits lifting away when he'd caught the being's attention, "what is your designation?"

Again, his smile returned. The white kibble around his lip plates curved with the sight and gave him an eerie, all-knowing appearance. They seemed all too familiar, and it annoyed Megatronus to no ends to be unable to recall where he had met this figure before. And at the same time, he had this mech's name on the tip of his glossa, awaiting the moment to be spoken. His processor buzzed, his memory files filtering at incomprehensible speeds. All at once, the realization hit him, and he drew in a sharp vent with the knowledge.

"Alpha Trion."

The Cybertronian chuckled and began away again, stopping at the landing for the stairs. His servo stalled on the rails, his faceplates bright when he peered back at Megatronus standing frigid where he'd left him. The gladiator was lost for words, his spark pumping furiously. Alpha Trion gave him a single nod, waved his servo, and said his final goodbye before setting off:

"Tell Orian Pax I send my greeting."

* * *

><p><em>Focus<em>.

Her servo passed lightly over his kneebolt, unlocking the protective cup there and exposing the pivotjoint and kneebolt underneath.

_Focus_.

The tenderness in her digits sent electricity up his leg as she dipped them inside the mechanism. Pain laced through the limb and he sucked in a cycle, both from the discomfort and her frame so near to his.

_This femme is only that: a femme_.

But the concern in her innocent optics as she turned their purity upon him took the feeling of indifference right out of his systems. Her touch was sincere, her voice soothing as high grade energon.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked carefully. Her question was soft and hesitant, her servos hovering over his injured kneebolt. He roughly swept his helm from side to side, clenching his oral sheets as the wave of affliction died off.

"No."

"Please tell me if anything is happening, I don't want-"

"Everything is fine Euphoria, I am a gladiator. My wounds are manageable," he told her firmly. His assurance did not appear to have much affect on the femme, however she remained quiet when she returned to tending to his appendage. He made better sure to stifle his vocal capacitor when he felt the pain, which seemed to help in the clicks she spent observing him.

It was groons now since their first meeting, with their usual gathering place in the Helix Gardens, centered by the massive fountain at its core. They communicated mostly by comlink now, neither refusing the others hails when they needed to meet at their usual location. They spent most of their time in silence. This was not a hindrance, as Megatronus was often distant and collected around the medic.

She didn't spend much of their time attempting conversation either, and it often was clear that she must have found some form of comfort in the quiet between them. It was one of the qualities Megatronus found most interesting in her, as most femmes spoke until their victim's audios fritzed or the listener turned them off themselves. Megatronus often caught himself staring at her, watching her move and the way she performed the most mundane tasks. Every sweep of her arms, and each step of her long, sapphire legs, intrigued him. The intelligence in her speech and the way she held herself spoke of an upper-caste femme, however her optics showed the color of the white-sighted, Mezzo-class.

Now even, she remained vigilant in keeping their mutual silence strong while she worked. The way her optic ridges dug deep into the contours of her attractive faceplates, and the small ticks made by the attachments on her helm as she focused, furthermore spiked his attention. He was amazed by the dedication she held in her business and the swiftness of her labor. However, she seemed too serious and far less characteristic of herself when she was in this stage, and he realized he didn't appreciate seeing this side of her.

Without thinking, he did the first thing on his processor. The holocube given to him by Alpha Trion was helpful in describing some of his more fascinating developments inside his processor. Mentions of 'infatuation' and 'lust' came up ever so often, and he found them disturbingly similar to his symptoms the more he read. Explaining the feelings of his body was difficult in itself, and most what he found inside the holocube was slightly or more untrue. One of the actions he found he did now, noticing that in the manual it helped to relieve stress.

Carefully, he placed a single digit under her chin and lifted her faceplates. She was surprised and confused, her optics marred with interest. Before she could react next, his frame folded forward and he pressed his lip plates to hers.

Fire bloomed forth from the contact, shocking even Megatronus when he moved his lip plates against the softness of Euphoria's. This tingling continued down into the bare core of himself, wrapping around his spark and causing it to flutter. Curious, he deepened their kiss, causing delicious licks of flame to electrify his wiring. Euphoria was languid in reacting to him and failed to resist him while he made his action. Everything about it was so pleasant in nature, while the energy running rampant throughout him stirred something in his tanks.

And instinct drove him on to grab her arm with a softness he himself didn't know he possessed, if but to keep her close. A slimmer limb, definitely hers, crept up his chassis and settled around the back of his neck, allowing him no chance of immediate escape. She couldn't trap him here, and he was conscious of the fact that they could part at any time, but for some strange, unfathomable reason, he had no desire to.

He did eventually separate them, as he found himself slipping into a side of himself he neither understood, nor could recognize. As he pulled away, a stray twitch from her servo behind him urged him to stop, inches away from her faceplates. A new contentment was there, her optic slips halfway closed and her lip plates slightly pursed. But then they shot wider, the sight of them suddenly and without warning comprehending what had happened. It was now that she threw herself away, her arms drawn up to her chassis in an odd way. A slight blue hue crossed over her cheekplates, their warmth sending a glow over her silver features.

Megatronus, caught in questioning of it all, lifted a digit and touched his lip plates. His optic ridges knitted and he fought to grasp the concept of what it was he was feeling. The way he experienced a refreshing heat when he was nearby this femme spurred most of his actions toward her. On the other servo, the fogginess in his logical programming and the unexplainable variables in this situation made him uncertain. There were more inquiries here than answers.

"Megatronus, why did you..." Euphoria herself was struck speechless when she touched her own lip plates, the shade of blue on her cheekplates darkening. He was watching her reaction, studying the way she became so flustered and shy when he did things such as this. Such an interesting creature...

"I was curious. You are the only femme whom has stolen my interests so incredibly," he said simply. His arm lowered and Euphoria looked up at him. "Had you not enjoyed my kiss?"

Euphoria's clumsiness peaked here when she tossed her arms across her body and she waved them from side to side. One would think she was landing an aircraft carrier from the way she violently swept them before her. That same blue on her faceplates spread to over half of her features, making her appear almost comical. "Of course not! I mean- yes, I did, however, that does not explain the fact of why...you did it...in the first place."

She calmed enough to turn away and bring her arms close, her optics avoiding his. His thoughts now fully on her, Megatronus ducked his helm down to get a better view of her expression.

When she had noticed him, she swiftly pivoted on her heelpeds and swooped closer, bending over his kneebolt far enough that he was unable to see her faceplates. He jerked up when she had jumped nearer, his blue gaze following her movements while she worked.

"Let us just...continue with your therapy. I'm certain we can find some way to heal it without major surgery," she decided abruptly. Her oral tube cleared and her vents revved. "There may be a chance I can smuggle a spare kneebolt replacement from the stocks and get it here. However, I am promising nothing." Still she would not look up at him. Why wouldn't she? Was she afraid of him? Did he do something to offend her? The lack of answers he received from her was irritating and made his spark hum in dissatisfaction. What did she want from him?

The better of the situation was that she seemed more relaxed. She continued her work without the vision of inner torment on her faceplates, or a sense of stress in her touch. It was softer now as she closed his kneebolt cap and her servos stalled there as if unwilling to part just yet. And as she did pull away, the separation proved far too cold for Megatronus' liking. He reached after her and grabbed her servo in his own, finding his doubled the size of hers. Nevertheless, it fit perfectly in the contours of his palms.

"Tell me," he called, not allowing Euphoria leave his side. She froze on the spot, from alarm or fright, he was unsure. "Why do you not...fear me?"

Her features, beautiful even in the lack of light of the orn, shone in the silvery embrace of the moons. Her optics, wide and innocent, mirrored her pure spark that seemed to glow beneath her chassis. The armoring was no match for the warmth leaking amongst the seams from them both. Lip plates parted, ready to answer, while their vents whirred heavily in the songs of the later orn darkness.

"I..." Venomous blues flushed her cheekplates in a fainter intensity than before, thrusting her in a surreal aura. "I know you will not harm me." Her answer was soft and shaking with unused energy. Megatronus felt them drifting together once again beyond their will, as if another outside entity controlled their motion. Their frames buzzed in their rushing sparkbeats, roaring in Megatronus' audios though he usually experienced no sense of such excitement.

"How do you know?" he demanded, though his voice remained low.

Euphoria did not flinch and she did not stutter. Her words were clear here. "Because that's not who you are."

Her optic slips folded downward as they had before. His fought to remain up, but eventually fell victim to the heaviness as well. As they fell into a cycle of repetition, their lip plates meeting, Megatronus knew this was not enough. This fire raging within him snuffed any before. Literal flames had engulfed his frame in time from the pits, however now, it attacked the veins running thick with his near crazed energon.

Megatronus grabbed Euphoria and hoisted her higher, standing himself. He ignored the complaints of his kneebolt as he ran a single servo down the length of her back. She shivered and he did so as well. Their passionate grasp deepened with their kiss as they moved as one, clinging to each other desperately. She slung her arms around his neck, holding on for dear, sweet life. They locked and Megatronus thrust Euphoria into one of the nearby crystal trees, shaking loose a few limbs. She threw her legs tight around him, barring him against her.

He was not letting her leave his sights now, or henceforth. Ratchet be blasted to Pit if he dare trespass upon this femme again. A growl split Megatronus' vocal capacitor when he pictured another mech encroaching this being wound so tightly around his hipbolts. It disturbed him unlike anything before to visualize such events.

But why? Why did he wish to snarl at any mech whom touch this femme? Why did he wish for her frame against his, longing, and yearning to catch the feel of her intimate servos across his spark? Who was this femme to bring him to such weakness and cause his kneebolts to go slack? She was different than the others...

Megatronus clamored for a hold on the femme writhing underneath him, fighting for a solid hold. She moaned and squirmed, her digits clasped deep in the folds of his armoring. Megatronus in turn ducked his helm close, using his bulk to pin her to the spot. One arm shot to the tree, giving him leverage over her while the other servo kept her fast up against him. It would be here and now that this moment would burn into his memory core, as his frame melded with hers. Together they vented and explored, caught up in the fullness of one another to dare break.

It was here that a love affair would begin.

* * *

><p><strong>And there we go! <strong>

**Poor Megatronus and all his messy, confused feelings XD**

**He's got some work to do...**

**I've got these chapter piled up, just waiting to be edited and put out.**

**They're coming out pretty random now,**

**But hopefully soon I can get a schedule going :)**

**Thanks everyone for reading/reviewing/favoriting,**

**It really means a lot and keeps me writing ;)**


	4. Allure

**How long has it been since the last chapter?**

**Three weeks maybe?**

**Anyway, it's been too long, so sorry guys :)**

**I actually quite like this chapter, so I hope it makes up for my absence,**

**I've got no excuses .**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

Allure

~_Warning: Total systems shutdown eminent. Automatic pressure stabilization attempts failure. Complete termination of restart programs. Recovery softwares attempting restoration...scanning for solution...scanning... No solution found. Central Processing Unit contaminated with foreign material. Constructing diagnostic...scanning... Scan incomplete. Viral ware detected in Central Processing Unit. Memory core crashing...attempting failsafe recovery... ERROR: CODE: 54692 - Meltdown in ***major core valve, spinal relay hardware, motorization adaptor junction, circulatory modus operandi*** resulting in ***fatality*** if not seen by medical assist within ten clicks...nine...eight..._~

* * *

><p>Time was not for the unwise to handle with such indecent discrepancy. Many events over, resulted in similar consequence. Because of the foolish. A never-ceasing cycle of ignorance.<p>

Time was a device to be abused; to be trod upon in such woeful effect that many before and likewise following, truly failed to understand.

Time was given.

Time was taken.

However, time, as in each precious, forthcoming breath, shan't be rejected. It may only evolve; grow into just exploration to provide for those it exists to serve, if but for limited trial. Thus, it is to continuously provide reason to be worshiped; desired; feared.

And here again, the tenancies of time coincide with the latter, eerily duplicate of itself: Fear.

What role would Time dare play without Fear as its partner?

~_Excerpt of_ _Alpha Trion's speech at the height of the Golden Age_

* * *

><p><strong>24,691 vorns, 12 quartexes, 4 groons earlier<strong>:

"And she grabbed my arm before I was given chance to say anything."

"_Mhm_..."

"We strolled in the museum longer than...Primus, I cannot think of a grander hall. Anything word she spoke was incredibly intelligent."

"Of course..."

"And her optics...Megatronus, what I wouldn't do to see them constantly within my recharge?"

"_Mhm_..."

"Are you paying attention, brother?"

Megatronus jerked to attention, snapping himself away from the holograph in his servo. A flatter image, it was a condensed compad, already loaded with Euphoria's contact information (though that remained already deeply logged into Megatronus' memory core), and a very flattering image of Euphoria herself. Her smile brightened the picture and lit up the contours of her astonishingly beautiful features, making Megatronus' spark skip a beat upon seeing it each time. The very sight of her optics burning so vividly into his own ceased his venting and caused his frame to warm.

"Excuse me?"

"Have you computed everything I told you?" Orian asked, his servos on his hipbolts and his helm tilted down on his larger comrade sitting at his desk on the far wall. He had been pacing mere moments before, only to stop in observation of the gladiator whom was caught so intently with a compad in his grasp.

"Yes..." Megatronus lied hesitantly. Orian shook his helm and grinned, unable to stop himself from finding his sibling's distraction humorous.

"Indulge me, Megatronus, on perhaps why it is you find such interest in that tiny device?" Whether it be from the tone of Orian's voice, or the way he watched his brother with such avid humor, Megatronus curled his lip plates and turned his spinal support to the red and blue apprentice.

No amount of ridicule or derision aimed towards him could ever turn Megatronus back now. He had drifted far too greatly into the depths of his desire to dare rip himself away. Neither Orian nor Sentinel knew much, or anything of the femme, truly, though Orian had fair better idea of her existence. Megatronus fought to conceal her involvement in his life cycle, fearing Sentinel would condemn her lower caste position and thus ruin both lives for femme and mech.

Orian approached Megatronus from behind, placing a servo on his peer's shoulderbolt. Megatronus held Euphoria's picture downward, hiding her profile from the curious optics of his adoptive sibling.

"I did not offend you...did I?" he inquired softly. The change in atmosphere between them changed vastly from eased to tense. It disturbed the gladiator far more than any match to witness the discomfort and incredible sadness in his innocent brother's gaze.

The cerulean glow met wit Megatronus' own and he sighed in defeat at the disarming tenderness. If one event frightened the younger of the mechs, it appeared to be placing bad energon between them.

"No. You did not," Megatronus assured. Part of himself fractured when he allowed himself to fall to the affect of Orian's ignorance. It shocked him at various points that his optics could be opened so many times by the immense purity Orian held compared to the corruption of the rest of Cybertron.

If Sentinel had done one act of humility for his apprentices, it had been shielding Orian so well. Eventually the cyberling would be forced to face the evils of his world as Prime, however, Megatronus would make well certain it would be as late a time as possible.

~_Why do you hide her from me Megatronus?_~ Orian now spoke through comlink, securing their conversation in absolute private. ~_I have noticed your absence in your berth in the middle of the late orn, and the increasing silence between us. These secrets building inside of you have put you at distance from me_.~

~_That is not what I had intended Orian. I would never have intentionally discarded you_.~

Now that he had paid it attention, the mech was increasingly becoming aware of his brother's truth. Yes, he was lacking in his attentions for his closest comrade. However, because of that, he was spending more of himself in the sake of realizing where his life cycle was taking him. This was in his journey to branch off and find himself. Euphoria was having influence on his decisions already, making her a vital part of his orn to orn routine. Why?

~_Nonetheless I feel as though it would turn out this way eventually_.~ Megatronus outwardly sighed, his frame rattling with an age he failed yet to possess.

~_You say this was meant to happen: your reoccurring absences?_~ Orian question in near horror.

At this Megatronus rose. His frustrations with Orian's persistent anxiety forced him at many times to sacrifice his own sanity in calming the younger of them. It appeared as though this was one of those occasions; where Megatronus would stand, facing Orian, with his servos on the cyberling's shoulderbolts, and settle him with a fierce and yet gentle stare.

"We must travel our own ways at one circumstance brother. You have Ariel now, thus she is to become your sole concern from this orn on," he began calmly. Orian's optics widened in both fear and wonder. "Do not believe I am to leave your side even as I grow fonder of another. Brother, we are one, no matter our presence. Sentinel be blasted to Pit, we are bonded deeper than any sparkmates. It is a sibling bond, one which may never cease."

Megatronus' fist laid on his chassis directly over the chamber of his spark. A sort of relaxation took over the armoring beneath Megatronus' digits as Orian came to better terms. A small and tender smile graced his faceplates, which still betray his inner and never-ending worries. Forevermore would this mech face concern.

"Come," Megatronus stepped aside and began for the doors of their living area, stopping when he had reached the open frame. "Let us take a walk."

* * *

><p>He could feel nothing; see nothing; he <em>was<em> nothing.

Light could not escape. This black hole was too strong.

But a voice.

A single, clear voice broke through to him.

And it absolutely shattered his spark.

"_Megatronus_."

"Megatronus, you lazy mech, wake up."

And he did what he was told. This voice, he trusted it. He knew it and therefore, he knew he could trust it.

His optics opened to exploding pain in his helm. It pounded as if his last opponent in the pits had bashed his cranial unit inwards and was still doing so now. The pressure behind his optics and noseplate made him wince and reach up with a numb limb as heavy as lead to pinch the bridge. A moan escaped him in his lethargy.

"I was fearful you wouldn't come to."

There she was - beautiful as she could ever be, closer than the armor on his protoform.

She lay against his side, tucked perfectly into the curve there as if his armoring had been made for her. He caught himself relishing the feel of her long legs tangled in with his own, her arms cradling his chassis. Both systems of vents whirred softly in a humming song of their contentment. A slight fluttering started up in Megatronus' chassis.

Euphoria must have been here for quite some time, for the ware of her features destroyed any sign of complete awareness. Herself having stayed up for less than an orn may have been too long for her to await her lover. His half conscious processor clicked into gear faster than he could swing his sword, thrusting the fact at him that she had awaited his return to the living with her delicate and intricately crafted frame laying so closely to his own.

He chuckled, dipping his helm downward so to nuzzle her neck. The sensation of her pleasured buzzing nearly set his frame afire.

"You could not await my waking until I had gained my proper recharge?" he teased playfully, using the arm draped so carefully around the spinal support of the femme to press her ever harder to his side. She did not mind, actually shifting herself to further interlock her armoring more perfectly with his.

"Of course not. What would I do alone without you here to speak with?" she began tracing random shapes across his thick armoring, sending shivers down his frame.

"If you must ask-"

"Do not answer that question," she snapped quickly.

Megatronus chuckled before falling quiet. It was moments such as these that he appreciated most of his femme. She was happy with the silence. It was unlike any Megatronus had the displeasure of meeting before where a femme had the audacity to chatter his audios to fritz. Eventually he would switch them off to save their condition. However these gatherings Sentinel put in place to possibly court femmes for his progeny were becoming more and more frequent. At some time Sentinel would force upon them both an arrange bondage.

Having Euphoria in his arms and letting himself drift to such distasteful scenarios made him instinctively hold her firmer to him. Currently her helm lay on his shoulderbolt and sit just under the juncture of his mandible. But at his unexpected movement she lifted said attractive helm to place two warm white optics on him.

"I am not leaving you Megatronus," she promised softly. Instantly the doubt left him. To have her here, tangible, when the thought of intended bindings remain so much a thought rather than reality, put him at better ease. Still there could not be enough caution in him.

He caught her with his own gaze which stay alit in an uncertain glow. The azure of his own optics melted with the white of hers, showering her in a faint cerulean casting while he was painted in ivory. A ghostly shade caught her features and made her appear far more dramatic and surreal. A minor part of himself appreciated the danger in such a look for her. It thrilled him.

"Euphoria..." his attentions snapped aside, where the gleam of the metallic walls gained his wandering gaze. It was a roomy space, sparsely furnished with but the basic of necessities. Their berth sit directly next to the rear most wall. A bland area mostly, it lacked much color other than grey, including the mesh hung above them that was currently pushed aside. A washrack could be seen in the far back of the room, flanked by a decontamination center and a container that appeared full of medical tools. A single holographic picture displayed toward the window on the wall to their far left. "Where are we?"

"A medical facility in Kalis, second district," Euphoria explained, lifting herself to her elbowjoints. "I have contact with a femme here who has accepted to assist us in replacing your kneebolt."

A buzzing started up in such kneebolt and traveled up the length of his leg and into his side. For a moment his processor traveled to Ratchet, whom as of lately, had not been on best of terms with the gladiator. His faceplates scowled, almost assuming Euphoria would trick him into meeting with a femme, only to have the Blaster City medic stride in. The dashing mech would take Euphoria into his arms while Megatronus sit in shutdown, whisking her away and off into lands too far and obscured for Megatronus to find them again.

His sour mood ruined Euphoria's expression of peace. Her optic ridges fell and knitted into the shining of her white gaze. "Megatronus?" she said his designation questioningly.

"It had better not to be Ratchet meeting with us here. I am not particularly fond of him," Megatronus told her bluntly. Euphoria's features unwound and a smile took the place of the marring worry. Slowly she reached down and pressed her lip plates against his, pulling away after a sparkbeat or so.

"There is no need to fear him Megatronus, my spark is yours now," she pressed their foreplates together, their bodies aligned from chassis to anklestrut. "Ratchet is merely my colleague."

"He better be," Megatronus growled. He abruptly threw himself up, throwing Euphoria beneath him. Her arms sit above her, her shape prostrating against the lengthy berth they laid on. The dimness of the room did nothing to hide the ethereal lucency of her aura. Every feature of her, down to the seams of her armoring, shined brighter than the stars. Pinned under him, Megatronus felt as though Euphoria had become more of his possession, a more solid representation that he had claimed his rights.

She was startled at first and hadn't the reflex to react in time. Because of this she was left with wide optics and limbs limp beneath the larger mech. His far greater servos covered hers, however dare not grab her to the point of pain, but kept his grip firm. Their legs once again twisted, with Megatronus hovering low enough to brush their chassises. He felt the tremble and heard the momentary shallowness of her venting. It was quick, but it had been there.

"I do not take well with competition," Megatronus' voice was graveled and deep enough that it was possibly inaudible. From the reaction crossed Euphoria it had indeed been registered.

"Competition..." she trailed off, unable to continue as Megatronus bowed and kissed her. He could taste the sweetness of her breath and trace the delicate softness of her lip plates. His own technique remain strong and rough, while her own in contrast was hesitant and slow. They stood at opposite ends yet worked so well together.

Impatient, Megatronus placed Euphoria's servos on his chassis, willing her to explore. He himself drug a servo down her side, taking in the curve of her helm under his digit tips and the way her side bowed so naturally into the smoothness of her hipbolts. A tenderness beyond him urged he lightly bring his digits across her thigh, which received a moan from the femme under his curious form. In an instant he had yanked that leg up, hoisting it around his hip bolt.

Euphoria was scorching his armor and thus melded with his own soaring temperatures nicely. The pain in his kneebolt was certainly forgotten as he trailed a servo over her abdominal slips, peaking over her spark and settling over the chamber. Euphoria had her digits deep within the cracks of his armor, playing with the wires hidden past. One pinch made him snarl against her, his servos locking now needily onto her. Their panting vents whined louder and coolant systems fought to keep up.

In retaliation Megatronus found Euphoria's own spot, beside her hipbolt, where when agitated she arched beautifully. Now they writhed and lost themselves, dipping quicker and quicker into a part of themselves they did not know. And inner instinct, one buried long ago and ingrained within their very gridmap, roared a command they failed to refuse.

A crude noise from the doorway shattered both hazes instantly.

"Had I failed to mention I do not particularly enjoy interface in my facility?" a femme voice. Unfamiliar."Especially with one of my patients."

Euphoria jerked from Megatronus, ripping their kiss apart to turn stretched optics on the stranger at the entrance. The two on the berth split apart almost painfully, Euphoria scrambling away and situating herself on the complete opposite end of the structure while her mech counterpart took his sweet time in settling himself.

Megatronus found no reason to become so flustered as Euphoria had been and took on his own personal technique of allowing himself to cool. Euphoria's cheekplates were stained a faint bluish hue which Megatronus found absolutely enchanting. The medic entering the room certainly did not seem to process the same idea.

"I leave you both here alone for a _breem _and you already have her wrapped around you," the femme looked to Megatronus pointedly. He did not react.

This newcomer was fairly tall for a femme, with black paint covering her thin armor and violet markings detailing the rest. Her helm was rounded, with two protrusions from the sides of her cranial unit circling around to meet at the back. A simpler design, her overall frame work was not too impressive, but gave off a simpler attractiveness. A symbol grazed her shoulderbolt and marked her as a Cybertronian medic.

"It is pleasant to see you as well...Slipstream," Euphoria greeted apprehensively.

Slipstream snorted in contempt at the situation before her. To Megatronus, it felt as though this femme was studying him. He could sense her observing his frame and the way his peer fidgeted while he stayed completely still and relaxed.

True, his frame continued to burn waspishly following his abrupt parting with Euphoria. It was the notion in his processor that they would eventually gain this opportunity again that kept him grounded so naturally. In time, he knew he would gain what he desired.

"I have the kneebolt you asked for me to retrieve," Slipstream reported. Her optics glanced distrustfully beside her at Megatronus. It was as though she held a sort of score with him. Had he done something wrong?

Euphoria visibly relaxed and slipped from the berth to walk up to her friend. Slipstream was a minor bit taller than her deeply blue comrade, and yet seemed of a sleeker, more refined build. Definitely a flier.

"Thank you. Did you gain it from Starscream?" The femme took the device from Slipstream's servos and placed it aside Megatronus. Slipstream huffed and crossed her arms, her lip plates curling.

"As if my brother cared for my whims," she bit scornfully. "He is far too concerned with the wellbeing of his brethren in arms than his own iron and energon."

"Certainly he shall bring you to Vos with him at least?"

"Unlikely," Slipstream and Euphoria traveled to the opposite end of the floor, where an array of various tools and devices lay. Euphoria listened intently to her femme peer and apparently forgot of the presence of the gladiator behind her. Megatronus found this incredibly disdainful and remained simmering in bitter silence while the conversing medics talked away obliviously to his being.

When they had returned to his side he decided against interrupting their speech. It was obvious they needn't pay attention to him, seeing as each spent their luxurious time wasting away by organizing the material required for Megatronus' repairs.

Those already made to him by the weldings of Ratchet burned as if touched by acid. Venting was difficult in this dim space, as it suddenly grew tenfold heavier on his frame. He found himself distracted and frozen while watching his femme from the back while she went between stations.

She was only a medic.

"Let me have your arm," her voice cut through to him and soothed whatever qualms his spark made. Phantom ailments vanished and his servos slipped from his side. Careful optics looked up at him, slightly higher now that one stood and one sat. A single servo half the size of his hovered in wait. Patience danced softly in the white of her gaze.

And yet strangely so much more.

"Megatronus?" she urged, that same tone carried even in question.

Numbly he handed himself over to her. He hadn't the want to be injected, but if any were to do it, he trusted Euphoria far further than the indignant Slipstream. The armor protecting his main energon line was removed and set aside to expose one of his highest weaknesses. Instinctively as a gladiator he was taught to never have this part of himself shown to the enemy less he chose death as his fate. And because of this it made him anxious to dare let openness touch this vein that could take away his life cycle with a single slit.

Still he forced himself to allow Euphoria's tender touch dip inside and cup the line, her free servo lowering the syringe. At the last moment she looked up and met optics with Megatronus.

She smiled. "I shall see you after this is passed, Megatronus." such fondness. He lacked the ability to respond before the cold instrument pierced his line and flooded his energon with fatigue.

Slowly the drug flowed through him. It bloomed into his limbs and took over the expanse of his digits and toelinks. His helm swum with visions of swirling metals and darkness. The sounds around him became muffled, as if smothered, while the smells narrowed to such one scent. This all went beyond his inner instincts to attack what attacked him. It was bare will that withheld him.

And lower he sunk into himself, turning to solidified liquid. Steady servos that served as his one solid point cradled his helm and set him on his spinal support. He was comfortable, if not for the coldness and swimming impairment of his senses. Black crowded his vision until nothing but it was seeable.

Then a mass of unsteady shape motioned towards him, growing larger and larger. Unable to move he remain motionless to intercept this thing coming at him. And when he figured his body was to be crushed by this unidentifiable thing, softness brushed the shape of his lip plates. Whispered words filtered into his audios, soothing him, even as he knew not what had been said.

Then this mass moved away and his world became sheathed in black.

* * *

><p><em>Energon.<em>

_Energon everywhere._

_He felt himself sinking into the familiar beat of the crowd. Their stampeding peds thumped in succession; in a single series of sparkbeats so deep it felt as though Cybertron's own was thundering beneath the crust._

_Energy flowed through him and granted him the skill he needed so as he swung and thrust. Slashing limbs twirled and flung either ways in practiced precision. This ceaseless song roaring in his helm called for the one instinct of his body at the time, so loud it drowned even the barbaric screaming of those surrounding him. Curdling his energon, they screeched and burst into utter chaos upon the downcast of his sword._

_Each swing, each blow, drug him on. He stepped, flicked his wrist, dug into the flesh of his own. Azure flashed under the murderous gleam in each spectator's optics._

_Shaking rapture swelled in each wave of these citizens' calls. They bellowed, as did he. They became one - this crowd, this gladiator. And the beating of their peds became the beating of his spark. The beating of Cybertron's spark became his own. And he dwelled in this wondrous power. And he bathed in the glorious life of his dying opponent._

_He took another step, jabbing his sword forward into the glow of victory. Light flashed against its gory shaft. Drops of yet to be dried energon flung from its surface to join in puddles around the scathed arena. Crude howling picked up into a disorienting volume that time itself slowed._

_The figure of silver slipped into a languid posture and clumsily missed the chance for his enemy's termination. One still uncovered side of himself remain exposed and open._

_His enemy bunted and thrashed at him with their own weapon. Following the energon leaving his own body, his skill and instinct flushed from him. Each impact grew in strength and rarely allowed his slowing frame to defend or strike back. The crowd was wailing with him and with their change of support, their new champion grew in strength. Their silhouette enlarged; it collected upon the energon at their peds. This shed life attracted to them and absorbed back into them._

_Sword hit armor. He could feel his body ripping apart. Fear gripped his tanks. His spark thrummed in primitive terror against the chamber of his chassis. A single snap to his bracer and his sword was dislodged from him. The shining blade whipped away to skid across the ground._

_The crowd shouted their approval._

_And now the grimness within him told of his impending fate. The scales were tipping from him. He knew of his arising future though he bore absolutely no ability to stop it. Why? Why could he not fight back though he clearly knew how? His scrambled thoughts obscured his technique and caused him to settle with responseless arms and unstable legs._

_His helm snapped aside as the sword slashed his cheekplate. He felt the denting. He knew of the lacerations decorating his features and the lack of armor on him that now lay in scattered spots in his enemy's wake._

_And suddenly his opponent leaned back. His upper half reclined to lift his leg._

_This gladiator, the one he now considered his victim, hung limp and motionless before him. His processor was clawing and fumbling for survival. It desperately held onto the hope of living and keeping the spark beating. And yet he could not move. He'd forgotten how._

_And his enemy took his time in coiling his attack. He moved in ridiculous speed, halting in his climax before setting merciless optics on him. Memory attacked the gladiator's processor at the features of this mech he fought. It had been the same one he himself had slain but two groons ago._

_The supposedly deadsparked mech threw himself forward, landing a swift kick to Megatronus' chassis. In an instant he was flat on the ground, not reacting, and not moving. But inside of himself he cried out in absolute rage. His vents seized from venting under the weight of his enemy. A wide ped splayed about his chassis, choking the life from his vents._

_Pressure bulged in Megatronus' helm and body. Yet he did not move and he did not speak. The crowd's monstrous callings overwhelmed anything and everything. Color drained and deafening sound repeatedly broke Megatronus' audios. They repaired themselves again and again, only to be destroyed by the cry of the witnesses._

_And the mech poised over him glanced upward where Nightjade would stand. Mighty and intimidating the golden Pit Master would send his consort aside while he stood and strode down the length of his steps. He would then raise his mighty arm, his thumb link erect. Shimmering layers of his armor would blind with its near liquid appearance._

_The crowd hushed in anticipation. Nightjade's request filled the air in amplified decibels. Though Megatronus could not understand these words he spoke through the crackling of his fritzed audios, he knew them well enough to predict. The crowd cheered again, but thankfully, Megatronus' audios had been mercifully shot so it was but a distant droning. His enemy looked down upon him with a malicious smirk._

_A thick sword raised far above him, pausing in the ray of Cybertron's moons. Billions of starts glinted in the skies of smoke. An odd humming began in Megatronus' chassis when he viewed such a sight as this mech standing before a sheen of beautiful stars and a posed blade._

_And then his enemy swiftly brought down that sword._

* * *

><p>Megatronus awoke screaming.<p>

A barrage of bright color was assaulting his optics. A strange tinge had overcome his processor that warned of threat and danger. Slaughter played out before him on vivid wings of mist. A rapid thumping of his spark foretold its great leap from his chamber. Coiling, curling fits of smoke doused the systems of his vents. He soon found himself struggling to vent and choking on his own energon.

A guttural roar found itself snaking from his throat. Instinct inside of him buried far within the vorns of his species rose to the surface with shocking vigor. Pain. He felt pain.

The spot where his helm should have been lopped from his shoulderbolts burned as if a scar had traveled around his jugular. Clumsy spots of pressure made waves throughout his frame, overloading his processor here, crashing the sensors on his digits there. One by one the strings of his processor were unwinding. Utter, total, gripping fear clamped onto him.

Weights strapped him down to some solid structure. The coldness emitting from it soaked into his armor and stole whatever warmth he held inside him. Darkness leaked across his vision, blotting out the white in slowly growing splotches. In pure instinct he fought with the waning strength of his agitated limbs.

Strength pumped through him in renewed rounds while he thrashed to get free. His optics were wide enough to make him feel as if they would split. Coursing, scolding temperature rose along the contours of the plates on his chassis. Where his spark would be, there was but a swelling flame. Steam and sparks flickered from his overworked vents. And again he screamed.

His spinal support arched, bowing high above the merciless flat of which he laid on. But he tired quickly of it and returned to yanking on his limbs. They seemed bolted down by invisible forces, which only spurred on his anger. Fury and terror drove him near insane.

Bellowing, he ripped on his limbs with mad desperation. He felt them slipping from their pockets, the pivotjoints wailing with the abuse. However, if it meant losing an arm (or both) he was glad to take that risk. If only to be free, he yelled until his vocal processor cracked. It popped once and went out, leaving him to call out in fierce silence.

And in his wriggling, he was abruptly mounted. His upper body straddled, he grew even more so frenzied. The mass was pressed firmly to him, yet it retained almost pitiful weight compared to his own. He snarled and rolled himself to rid this attachment to him. Whatever it was remained, and he grew infuriated with its presence. He felt trapped - claustrophobic when this thing wrapped around him and grabbed at his faceplates.

Figuring it dangerous, Megatronus twisted away and panted with his exhaustion. But no, he could not allow himself to rest. He needed to fight. And fight he did.

The sudden move he made to butt his shoulderbolt into this entity on top of him resulted with a resounding click and instantaneous agony. Pain seared across his chassis and spinal support instantly, making him screech oh so quietly. Unable to make a noise, he could but arch again at the intense suffering he experienced from the area. A tingling numbness suddenly enveloped the arm, traveling up the lower part of his neck. Gurgling could be felt in his throat, which he spat out when he flipped his helm to the side. If only he could rid himself this limb, the pain would be over...

"_Megatronus!_"

Immediately the blindness receded. His boiling energon calmed and flowed more smoothly through his veins. Heat once almost melting the alloy from his frame lessened as well to more manageable measures. Pressure in his helm evened to the point where light and darkness evened out to simple patters and colors. Scents failed to have the metallic edge to them any longer.

However the discomfort remained, if not strengthened, and he released a low moan that welled through a fritzed vocal processor. What he figured was energon trickled from his lip plates as a warm, slick stream onto what he laid on. It then pooled and settled by his neck.

"Megatronus."

Again, the same voice called to him. Through the dim he squinted and rolled his sore and aching cranial unit upward. A light from the Pit itself attacked him and he hissed, closing off his optic slips immediately.

"Primus Slipstream, turn off the light already," the voice commanded. A blot against the light enlarged as a fuzzy black shadow. When the unforgiving glow disappeared, the figure came into sight. A femme, with solid sapphire-colored armor and flattering adornments to her helm. Her slim shoulderbolts hunched, her servos planted firmly on Megatronus' own. Those silver features he found usually so intriguing were stoic with concentration. However, a deeper side showed within the gentle dip of her optics. A worry that Megatronus knew all too well.

Euphoria's digits slipped over Megatronus' faceplates, expelling the lasting warmth that burnt his features. The scar of his upper left temple pulsed coolly under her trailing grasp. If not for the fact of Megatronus' intense physical ailing and the dislocation of his shoulderbolt, he would have initially of noticed that he was indeed being straddled by Euphoria.

Still he could not move, and he glanced beside him to see his arms held down by metallic bands that appeared to have small cracks lining the sides. Had that been his doing?

"We had to, for your own safety as well as ours," Euphoria murmured regretfully. "You were struggling and harming yourself further. How are you feeling?"

"Not...well," he admitted. Euphoria removed the straps from his wrists and Megatronus sat up, the femme slipping from his lap to kneel between his legs. Her intense optics watched his every move. "But well enough," he finished, rubbing the inflamed wiring in his pivotjoints.

It was awkward for him to maneuver his arm, which hung loose and unresponsive from its socket. When he picked up his limp arm from the table, he held it steady so not to disturb it further. Already it was exhibiting a reaction unlike any he had dealt with before. This was different. It made him feel crippled with only one working arm.

Euphoria must have noticed his determined expression, for her optics went from his faceplates to his oddly sloped arm and a gasp split her lip plates. "Your arm-"

"Is fine," he snapped, growling when another wave hit him. He bowed over his injured appendage and Euphoria attempted to see to it. He would not allow her near it.

"Slagging mech dislocated it," Slipstream hissed irritably from her post at the end of the berth. Her servos remain on her hipbolts, her expression hard. "With the fighting you did, you nearly broke my restraints. Those will have to be repaired."

"I apologize," Megatronus grounded out. He could feel Euphoria watching him, even as he refused to look into her own optics. He would not allow himself to falter in her presence. Both their gazes were trained on him, though he tried avoiding them.

Why was is necessary to hide himself away like this? What shame was he to feel in impairing a medical tool and popping a limb from socket? He had felt, and managed, worse than this. However it was the lingering remnants of his recharge that threw him off balance.

The images burned into the back of his memory core, washing him with a sense of insecurity and anxiety. Tremors rocked his frame when the profile of his murderer passed. A sickness swirled in his tanks to the point where he had to force himself not to purge. With his free servo he wiped away the energon line from his mandible.

What had brought upon such a vision? Cybertronians rarely ever dreamed, and if so, they experienced looks of past memories or alternate forms of ones. An inner discontent was brewing at the overwhelming series of emotions he'd felt at the time. When he ceased the ability to fight back or defend himself, he'd panicked. It was unlike a gladiator to dare allow themselves to panic, under any situation. Megatronus often used it as a tool for himself against opponents, though he never experienced it for himself in the arena. He had been told too many times that it killed. Therefore, he barred its presence in his processor. Then how is it he felt it then, in the influence of impending death?

Megatronus swallowed these silly musings of his and firmly grabbed the upper half of his dislocated arm. Without meeting either gazes of Slipstream or Euphoria, he swiftly jerked his servo upwards as hard as he could.

The loud pop that accompanied it was followed with a low grunt from Megatronus and the immediate shock of the femmes.

"Megatronus!" Euphoria exclaimed in surprise. She ducked close, spreading her shadow across Megatronus' lap. He struggled to stay conscious through the sheen of affliction mugging his processor. The shape of Euphoria's shadow as he hovered over himself, nearly denting his armor with the strength of his grip on his shoulderbolt, became a solid hold for him to feed from. It may have been the single thing that kept him aware.

Although, as soon as the pain had overcome him, it disappeared. Megatronus reclined back hesitantly, opening and closing his servo to test out its mobility. He could feel his digits again, which was good in his opinion.

When he mistakenly glanced upwards, Euphoria was observing him no longer with indifference, but awe. Her comrade on the other servo, must not have felt as amazed. The only warning Megatronus received was of a short series of clapping peds before a strong servo cuffed him on the back of the helm.

Light exploded before his optics and he ducked. "You reckless brute, you could have injured yourself further!" she scolded harshly. Before he could release the retaliation building on his glossa, Megatronus' helm was grabbed by the protrusions and Slipstream snapped it to the side away from his throbbing shoulderbolt. Careful, skilled digits dipped within, massaging the spot and checking for further damaged.

She finally released him and allowed him to cup his arm. "It's not snapped," she reported, walking over to the sink to wash away the grime on her servos. "However it is strained and will need a few orns rest before it can be used properly again. Along with that you will probably be required to restrengthen it prior to your return to the gladiator pits." She turned back to them before shoving her soaked servos under a drying fan.

"Nonetheless the surgery went fairly well," Euphoria chipped in. Her voice was far lighter than that of her comrades, which served as a sort of salve for his spark. It pattered with her sound, urging him nearer though his processor warned to stay away. His game met her own, the sight of her optics boring into his. "Your kneebolt is working perfectly and your recovery time shouldn't be so long with aid of therapy."

He nodded, grateful. "Thank you," he murmured. The purr of his chassis rumbled deep and he silently prayed Euphoria would not pick it up. He cleared his vocal processor to mask it, however, but the look decorating her features, she had indeed picked it up. A slight blush set her cheekplates aglow. It was almost comical to see her so abash.

"Here," a slight nudge jolted Megatronus' shoulderbolt. He glanced up, stealing himself away from the medic still kneeling before him, and saw Slipstream with her arm outstretched. In her grasp was a full cube of energon. "Drink this. It's high grade, so it should ebb the discomfort for awhile."

Megatronus took the cube appreciatively and tilted his helm back to guzzle it down. Sweet, almost burning liquid poured down his throat. A chill over his frame caused him to tremble before a pleasant buzzing drowned out most his former uneasiness.

"You certainly are a roguish medic," he noted as he drug the back of his servo across his lip plates. Calculating optics paused on the sly, narrow faceplates of the femme as he wondered if what he'd allowed himself to do was a mistake. He'd been ignorant to guzzle such a drink without checking its substances first. Since it was high grade, this energon would have easily masked the bitter taste of inherent chemicals. Many times over attempts had been made to stop the spark of the royal family, even if said family was of adopted progeny.

As if reading his thoughts, Slipstream snorted. "Maybe. But at least I am not a distrustful femme of the 'bots that helped me," she quipped.

"Touché," a smirk crossed his features with the last of the energon from his mandible beading off his digits. Already the energon began its work in filtering his thoughts and organizing his processor. He could comprehend clearer now, excusing the occasional fuzz permeating his vision.

Euphoria touched his shoulderbolt with uncertainty and the hulking warrior released a content cycle from his vents. Looking upon her now, the luminescent glow surrounding her obscured the sharpness of her frame, but that didn't halt that fact that she was absolutely, without doubt, the most glorious being he had seen in his life cycle.

Her optics batted at him and he smiled, almost dumbly, with his senseless servo rose up to touch her cheekplate. She froze as he traced the contour of the seams of her features, taking in the subtle swoops and angled edges.

"So...beautiful," he slurred.

"Primus, he's _drunk_." Who was the giant black blob chuckling at him?

Slowly he blinked, one optic at a time. He then scrunched his optic ridges at the gigantic technopup, fighting to see this being better. A warm presence beneath his touch shifted, causing him to snap back and sway dangerously.

A strong grip caught him before he could tumble and he laughed loudly. "Whoa, watch out, I'ma fallin'!" He chortled at his own joke. A short snort escaped his noseplate. "Whoops, snorted a bit."

"What did you give him?" a sweet tone, one from beside him, demanded. Megatronus' helm lolled around to face the source of it. Pearly faceplates and twin orbs of striking white met his sights.

"Pretty..." he murmured absently. He tried lifting a digit to touch the pretty, but she swatted him away, her arms wrapped tightly around his upper body. His midsection felt as though it was liquid, his spinal support no longer able to keep him upright. A funny tickling started up in his aft and Megatronus grunted, trying to scratch at it.

"High-grade," the weird black and purple technopup responded as she suppressed a giggle.

"What _kind_ of high-grade?" the entity beside Megatronus pried. When he gazed up at her, the sole thought crossing his processor was_ pretty_...

"Just some general stuff..."

"_Slipstream_..."

"Pretty..."

"Alright, alright...I _may_ have bought from the subterranean market..."

"It's _Tarnian_?!"

"Just a little!"

Megatronus was startled when the smaller creature next to him suddenly moved so quickly that he proceeded to drop flat to his faceplates. He found no cushioning to soften the collision with his noseplate, and he moaned quietly with his swimming helm. The buzz was now a constant feeling of nothingness.

"You know slagging well that Tarnian energon is _three times_ heavier than medical high-grade," the familiar voice, Euphoria was her name now that he remembered...or was it Ephie? Aria?

"It's perfectly safe for him to consume. I wouldn't have given to him otherwise," Slipstream retorted back, her humor seemingly gone. Megatronus shoved his languid arms under him to push himself up. He immediately plummeted back to the berth.

Aria...Euphoria... sighed impatiently. "But look at him," she persisted. Megatronus groaned and lifted himself limply to an awkward sitting position. Half of himself was sagging sideways, the other following suite in a certain fall.

"I'manot..._drunk_..." he insisted, his words flowing together sloppily. If Sentinel heard him speak now...his helm hurt just to think of it.

He was acute enough to notice the pointed glare the pretty little Euphoria threw Slipstream's way. The sister of Vos' leader shrugged nonchalantly.

"If he says he's not, he's not," she surmised.

"Slipstream!"

"Fine! Fine. I'll give him a counteractive against the ethanol, but that's all I can really do," Slipstream conceded. Euphoria stared after the femme as the technopup patted away. It was all quite entertaining to watch, this technopup being berated by a giant cybercat...wait...

Euphoria returned to Megatronus' side, her faceplates coming into crisper view when she bowed close to his. They were mounted with worry, which unsettled Megatronus. He didn't like seeing his pretty unhappy. Thinking it was something he did, he lifted a servo and cupped her cheekplate. She smiled and held it there a moment longer, which he took as an acceptance.

As long as she kept smiling he was happy...he liked the way the thin wires of her muzzle fanned out when she grinned. He giggled softly.

"Pretty cybercat..." he garbled.

Euphoria's optics widened and she burst into a fit of laughter, followed by her very much-so intoxicated gladiator.

* * *

><p><strong>Megatronus likes his pretty :3<strong>

**Thought I'd loosen things up a bit with the ending there,**

**just to make up for my lazy butt not posting anything.**

**I've really been working hard to get everything together, since my school and my personal life really _really_ hate each other.**

**But there shall be more! :D**

**I'm looking forward to hearing what you all think :)**


	5. Primus Isn't Enough

Chapter 5

Primus Isn't Enough

* * *

><p>~<em>Failure in retrieval of logged Chief Medical Officer resulting in mass shutdown in cerebral core processes; proceeding with automatic system evaluation...loading...scanning...scanning...no solutions found - ERROR CODE: 45692 - Replacement of spinal relay system *<em>_**moderately***__ recommended; replacement of alimentary structure *__**highly***__ recommended; replacement of electrovascular systems and/or programs *__**highly***__ recommended; Beginning of core meltdown reoperation commencing in...ten clicks...nine...eight... ERROR CODE: 0919024 Sustaining from consulting Chief Medical Officer resulting in *__**Fatality**__* for over *__**five**__* clicks_...~

* * *

><p><strong>24,691 Vorns, 11 quartexes, 3 groons before<strong>:

This orn was not a good one.

And Megatronus was adamant on revitalizing such disastrous events taking place so far. The breaching of their star over Cyberton's horizon usually brought him such pleasure and joy to of lived another groon, or orn for that matter. The scars he recalled not where they had come from warmed under the rays and tingles when he brushed his sharp digits over them. He'd travel to the depositor down the hall and sit with Orian and Sentinel, discussing their lessons later those joors. And everything had begun this way. Such was the pattern of his life cycle.

A newer sense of tensity had developed between Megatronus and Sentinel ever since the Prime had stricken him. Betrayal was forefront of his processor when recalling the incident. However the larger mech simply refused acknowledgment that it had happened, and blatantly avoided it around Orian. A sort of truce had befallen them for their younger peer's interest.

The youthful red and blue apprentice understood the things happening around him without any needing inform him. It was his curiosity and intellect that allowed him such ease in assessing the situations such as this. And it was a skill appreciated greatly in archivists.

However, it would often leave him appearing awkward and uncomfortable as he sat playing with his early orn energon between his adoptive Prime and brother. His inquiries remained slimmer than before; the depth of his yearning for knowledge seemed to dwindle in these waning groons. And as such, it was a relief when Sentinel suggested they have their lesson in the Hall of Records later the orn.

* * *

><p>Megatronus agreed to venue with them during the time, and made his way to the pits. Naturally he expected to have a match, and was not disappointed when the bright yellow femme came to his quarters and asked for his presence in the arena. He'd followed behind, as he did every orn, waited by the gates, and prepared himself. Certainly the procedure would have been repetitive by now. It was necessary.<p>

Megatronus wished unlike anything before to be High Lord Protectorate of Cybertron. This position filled their orns surveying crimes in the city-states and sending off batches of reinforcement if needed. They supervised conferences and handled foreign or off-worldly matters in place of their Prime. And when needed they provided utmost care for the clutch units in Praxus and other city-states, and handled funding for the impoverished. Currently the Protectorate was Beta, an older femme that spent more time off her world than on it.

And to replace her in that position, Megatronus hoped to scale through the lowest of the low on his home world to better understand their struggles. He wanted to fix the wrongs done and properly establish enforcement here, where his kind stand, instead of making speeches and filling debts on other planets. And one of the best parts of this profession allowed him to do was stand beside his brother as Orian would later became Prime of Cybertron.

For now he would fight. He could only do so for the sake of his species, if only to fully grasp the concept of true hardship. It had groomed him into the mech he was now. Though it stripped any innocence that may have remained in his frame, he had become a better mech because of it. Or so he hoped.

A certain hardship he dared not speak outwardly about was the concept of the processor's state after such experimentation. As a champion, he was allowed to travel back and forth from the pits to his domicile. These other gladiators, ones he often considered his brethren, were not permitted such luxuries.

When he walked down that hallway, back to his quarters, trailing the same bright yellow femme from before, he grasped the complete idea of struggle. As she continued on, he paused, standing before a single cell that was lit dimly by only the light of their star through the tiny window in the back. A heavy black mass floated in the center of it, inches off the ground. Drying energon flickered like flame across Megatronus' frame when he leaned near. The sword in his servo clattered to the floor just as the tiny yellow femme next to him gave a shrill scream.

* * *

><p>A sharp jab to his tanks knocked Megatronus from his stupor. He was staring off into the unknown, his digits clamped around a holocube on the shelves. Orian stand beside him, a few of his own devices clutched by his chassis. Azure optics tremored from side to side, taking in the expression of his taller comrade. Megatronus huffed and brought his arm back to take the holocube from the shelf. It came free in a cloud of dust, making both mechs hack.<p>

Megatronus waved a servo before him to get rid of the choking substance. Orian was doubled over, the holocubes once in his digits now scattered on the floor.

"You would assume-" Orian cut off in another fit of coughs, "that Sentinel would place us in a section more...up-to-date than this."

"You obviously do not know of Sentinel's wish to torture us with these lethal conditions," Megatronus teased as he revved his vents to get rid of the remaining particles. Orian snorted and bent over to retrieve his holocubes from the floor.

"You are exaggerating, dear brother," he chided lightly, brushing off the top of his cube with a disgusted expression. Megatronus smirked and blew on the device, causing most the dust to fly into Orian's faceplates. The cyberling's optics widened and then snapped shut, his vents heaving once again. The gladiator's laugh filled up the space as his younger sibling tried ridding himself of the bothersome substance.

Orian's optics opened again to glare at Megatronus, but the ashen warrior couldn't help chuckling at the liquid brimming on the student's optics slips. "And you, dear brother, do not exaggerate enough," he said, patting Orian's helm.

The cyberling reared away from his brother's playful gesture and huffed indignantly before pivoting on his heelpeds. Megatronus rolled his optics and smiled at the back of Orian's helm as he returned to their table.

It was already stacked full of holocubes and compads, mainly the bulk of them to the right, which Orian had claimed as his side early on. Megatronus' side was but a group of ten or so compads and two holocubes.

Alpha Trion's cranial unit suddenly poked out from the end of the shelves and he peered around at them both curiously. "I heard coughing over here. Are you both alright?" he questioned. Orian nodded and grinned, even as his optics continued to shimmer with irritated tears. The elder mech gave a dip of his helm and jerked out of sight, disappearing without another word.

Orian joined Megatronus at his side and the gladiator screwed in his optic slips, still watching the place where Trion had exited. "He is a strange being, isn't he?"

"Genius, yes. Strange...yes as well," Orian admitted in defeat. He sifted through the compads at his height, avoiding the piles of dust sitting around the corners. "However Alpha Trion is a highly capable scholar and somebot I trust highly."

"Still strange though," Megatronus responded, getting a pointed glare from his comrade. Orian and Megatronus fell silent during their searching, neither willing to strike up nonsense conversation about the latest fashions or general weather of Cybertron. They were content in the lack of speech, and Megatronus found himself at peace for a rare moment in the presence of his brother.

Together they shifted and idly wasted away time while looking for Primus knows what. Sentinel had granted them the project of researching primal behaviors of earlier-age Cybertronians and their swift convergence into beings who thirsted for each other's energon. They were meant to study the shipping patterns of the time and any strategic meaning behind various actions.

Basically, they were judging the logic behind the First Great War.

Megatronus found a generally interesting compad toward the back of the shelf and made his way to the table to sit and read. Each mech was to construct a ten-page chapter of their findings to turn in to Sentinel. So far Megatronus had yet to begin his own, and Orian was still to read a single one of his devices.

The gladiator took one scan of the subject matter on the compad he'd opened and tossed it back onto the stacks of other compads. Orian made his way to his own side, his arms full of five or so holocubes. They overflowed his pile and ended up tumbling the structure. A few stray cubes rolled across the floor and under the table.

"Must you have so many?" Megatronus asked, watching in amusement as his brother fumbled for the scattering cubes and compads. He grunted and abruptly sat up, slamming the back of his helm into the underside of the table. Megatronus could hold back the laughs swelling in his chassis.

Orian appeared again with one optic closed in pain and his servo rubbing the spot on his helm he'd hit. "The more I read, the less time it will take me to construct the project," he insisted. He narrowed his optics at his silver sibling as the large mech's chair creaked backwards in his chortling. Megatronus grabbed his sore tanks and fixed his brother with shining optics.

"True, true," he agreed. "Although the time it will take you to finish reading those will take away from your writing."

"Worry of your own progress Megatronus," the cyberling bit irritably. Megatronus lifted his servos in a placating gesture and returned to his compad.

The material was worse the further he went into it. He found his processor drifting off to earlier events of his life cycle instead of skimming the words. The glyphs faded into one another while he thought, his CPU moving along on easy breezes though his memories.

His features became thoughtful when he reached the file he'd marked as 'Euphoria', and he gently pressed it, meaning to quickly revisit his files of the femme medic. However, before he could, a newer set of loose thoughts intercepted him and ripped him away from his files. It was a vision of the image he'd seen earlier in the orn, after his match in the arena. It burned the compounds of his cranial unit and singed the edges of his wires. When he pictured it clearer, it sent a shock down his relay. It took him a nanoclick to realize that he was visibly trembling, the compad locked tight in his digits.

Its screen was black and the corner was cracked slightly. A chill overcame him and his venting ceased. His spark skipped in his chamber in a flurry of motion too quick for him to count. His energon roared in his audios and muffled the line of his processes. Knots formed in his tanks as he became increasingly unsettled.

"Megatronus, are you feeling alright?" Orian's voice snapped Megatronus back into reality and the mech jolted, dropping the compad. It fell to the floor, shattering the screen.

"Slag," he spat, bending over to pick what was left of it from the ground. He carefully collected the shards and brushed them onto the surface of the table beside the broken compad. It would have to be replaced.

Megatronus' piercing gaze skipped upwards to meet with Orian's, who could be seen staring at the gladiator sternly. The compad he'd been reading was set aside and the one he wrote his report on remain idle, his stylus floating patiently above. An age far beyond that of Orian's time played out terribly over his faceplates. Faceplates that should have been laden with happiness and youth than the pressure of bearing the mantle as future Prime. No cyberling should have to of been placed in a position such as he.

"I'm fine," Megatronus lied, peeling his optics away from the disturbingly prying ones of his peer. "Go back to studying."

"You are lying," Orian accused flatly. "There _is_ something wrong."

"No, Orian, there is n-"

"Do not try distilling the truth from me Megatronus," the apprentice snapped. Megatronus' mandible closed and he slowly reclined in his seat, observing Orian in surprise. The red and blue progeny was putting up quite the front to intimidate his gladiator brother. However the mech had known him for too long. They'd spent too much time at each other's sides, upgrading as two of the same being.

The silver warrior folded his servos in his lap and nodded respectfully at Orian. "You will make a fine Prime," he noted. The way Orian placed control over a situation so quickly was vital for his future stature. It was impressive to see the strength behind his words, though his optics spoke of a deeper concern. It would have to be his duty later on to place such walls in the sake of his followers. He'd have to learn how to lie.

"You are concerned for me, I know. However some things are better left unsaid, brother," he explained firmly. His tone was clearly warning Orian to not overstep boundaries, but the archivist remained vigilant in his unquenchable questioning.

"Please, Megatronus, I wish to know," he pleaded. Megatronus shook his helm from side to side.

"No Orian, my business is my own and if you-"

"Megatronus, I need to know so I may help you through-"

"Do not interrupt me Orian," Megatronus' voice was strong and direct, his volume carrying over that of Orian's. Outmatched, the cyberling sat back in his chair and shut his lip plates. He finally seemed to grip the heaviness in Megatronus' words and he relinquished to the dominance of his brother.

Megatronus sighed and drug a servo over his fatigued features before looking to the table. "Brother, I carry more secrets than you could ever comprehend. Vastly, the majority of them remain with my intervals spent in the pits. I know you do not wish to, nor could you handle, them. That is why I must protect you from them." he lifted his faceplates, resting his chin in his palm.

Orian's mandible visibly tensed, his optics flaring defiantly. Something was stirring in this mech that hadn't been before. He was coming dangerously close to becoming victim to the tales of the pits, such as Megatronus was. He swore he would prevent that from happening.

"I am no longer a youngling Megatronus, and as such, I am perfectly able to hear your story," Orian placed a fist on the table, rustling the compads on either side of it. His report came close to tipping over the ledge. This newer side of his sibling confounded Megatronus. He didn't understand where the flames had came from, dancing in his optics, or the commanding edge to his tone that had become profoundly steadier over these groons.

"What has gotten into you?" he demanded of his younger brother.

The archivist was but a symbol of all that Megatronus vowed to save. He wished to mold Cybertron into the image of Orian, whom showed nothing but honor and peace. All beings dwelling on this planet had the responsibility of showcasing such qualities, though fewer than some did. Orian was a legendary thing meant to be sheltered.

Or was he? Could a Prime be a good one without knowing of his people's condition?

"I am weary of this facade yourself and Sentinel continuously put up for me when I ask of Cybertron's issues," Orian informed, his shoulderbolts sagging slightly. The fire died marginally in his optics to the cooler hue it usually was. A grim sadness gripped the aura surrounding him. It was now that Megatronus wished he held a real sparkling bond with Orian, if but to know what he was thinking at the moment.

"We do it for your _protection_," Megatronus ground out. It wasn't like him to defend the Prime, but now was different.

"But I need to know to _be Prime_, Megatronus!" Orian insisted. "You leave every orn before I even awake to travel to the pits and slay a fellow Cybertronian for the sake of study. You do this so you may become a better Protectorate. Why can I not be a better Prime?"

"That is different Orian, and you know that," Megatronus answered coldly.

"How Megatronus? How is it?"

"Orian-"

"These games you and Sentinel play are tiresome Megatronus. I merely wish to understand my kind better, if only to serve them to the best of my abilities some orn."

"And you will. However my accountings from the pits are not such a wise position to start from."

"And why is that?" Orian requested harshly. His servos were balled up and his handsome faceplates were twisted in frustration. "Why must I be contained in these walls," he swung an arm around him at the Hall of Records, "when other must suffer on the corners of our streets and have their pleas go unheard? Why must I be pampered when they must starve and waste away?"

Megatronus raised a servo, anger boiling inside of him. He forced the aggravation down his throat when it attempted to escape as a feral growl. The gladiator beat so forcibly into him was scratching at his restraints, struggling to be free. His glossa writhed with venomous words. The truth surfaced in his processor and he, for but an astrosecond, wondered if it may be best if he spoke it. Orian did deserve it. However, he didn't deserve it now.

"Orian," he warned.

"Megatronus I want to know the truth. I want you to enlighten me on my brethren in the pits, how they are behaving - the treatments they receive. It cannot be pleasant, I'm sure, however I wish to know," Orian's optic ridges knitted together and his servos opened pleadingly.

Megatronus shook his helm with a finality he was certain would stop Orian's pestering. "You do not wish to know, trust me Orian," he growled.

"But I do!"

"_Orian._"

"Megatronus, my point remains. I wish for you to tell me and cease this endless game between you and Sentinel against me." Orian promptly stood, shaking the table. Megatronus winced from behind his digits and sunk the tips into his helm. No, he couldn't tell. Orian didn't understand and his adolescent pride was taking over. He wasn't processing straight.

"Tell me," Orian commanded.

"No, Orian-"

"Megatronus I will find out eventually, and by who better than my own energon and iron? I would rather it be you to inform me than those unworthy of my trust. Please."

"Stop, Orian. Please quit this incessant impertinence," Megatronus could feel himself breaking. He cringed against the burning optics of his brother, squeezing his own shut to quell the oncoming cranialache.

Orian groaned, making Megatronus twitch. "Better a Prime filthy with knowledge than aloof with ignorance, correct Megatronus? Those are your own words, are they not? Then explain it to me. Inform me."

"I cannot, Orian."

"Yes you _can_. Is there perhaps somebot threatening you, or telling you to hide this from us, or-or-or harassing you? I can get Ironhide to take care of it for you. He is a close friend of mine. Or maybe Ultra Magnus," Orian had begun to pace before Megatronus.

"That won't be necessary..."

"May be there is some way I may convince Sentinel to shut down the pits," Orian went on, ignoring Megatronus. "He could send better servalience to oversee those who get sent there for a proper trial. Or Alpha Trion! He could help!"

"_Orian_..."

"Ariel. I shall speak with her and she may have ideas. I wish to know who and want transpires in those pits and give the gladiators their proper rights-"

"A mech hung himself."

Orian immediately froze mid-step. His lip plates hung open and his optics refused to shutter. The stiffness in his frame conveyed his utter shock. Megatronus simply stared at his brother, watching between his digits. Deathly seriousness blanketed the gladiator's features when he mercilessly threw such raw information at his ignorant peer.

The space between them seemed to widen by the wide of a planet. A sense of detachment hit Megatronus harder than ever before. Never before had he felt so disconnected from Orian. The remembrance that they were not true brothers stung his spark. His very core gnarled viciously with the horror building in Orian's optics. The cyberling's innocence shattered right before Megatronus' very optics.

"Excuse me?" the apprentice whispered almost too softly to hear. Megatronus noted the break in his tone and he mentally cursed himself for dare uttering a word. Snarling, he threw his helm to the side and leapt to his peds.

He turned himself away from Orian to protect himself from the look playing out in them. They could be felt searching Megatronus' spinal support. His shoulderbolts hunched and he curled his digits inward, the fists shaking at his sides.

"A mech...hung himself earlier this orn," Megatronus repeated monotonously. "A good, stable mech Orian. I knew him. His designation was Tirade. He was kind and humble and deserved so much better..." Megatronus trailed off and his helm sunk into his shoulderbolts. His optics squeezed tightly shut. He felt almost nauseated speaking now. The black mass hanging from the ceiling came to his processor and his optics ripped open before they would be stained with the image.

He couldn't think of the limp frame of the once so lively Tirade. He couldn't recall the unnatural angle of the mech's helm, or the way his chassis appeared so sharply yanked. He wouldn't allow himself to imagine the thick cord wrapped around Tirade's neck, attaching him to a beam in the ceiling; or the dressings on the berth, in a mess from where Tirade had jumped; or the energon dripping from his wrist where he had slit it to write a message on the desk.

Orian hadn't the time to respond before Megatronus went on, almost angrily. "But he was scared. He was weak and decided to commit suicide to escape something he hadn't the strength to handle. He could not cope with the pressures of the pits or the thought that he may never taste freedom again."

"And he was weak for that?" Orian murmured. He was closer now. Megatronus could feel the essence of the cyberling hovering near. A servo laid on his bracer and Megatronus wrenched off, stepping a few feet away to escape the stifling influence Orian omitted.

"That is what the others would call him," Megatronus' helm tilted back and he settled for staring at the ceiling above. The lights blinded him when he looked directly at them, but he would have much rather taken that abuse than bring himself to share a glance with Orian again. "And that is the real world you so desperately wish to understand. Don't you see, it is all for themselves there. There is no happiness in the pits. There is no surreal fantasy where a mech will come into the arena and have both opponent and challenger walk away. One dies. That's it."

The shadow of a civilian passed by overhelm in the upper balconies. It appeared to be a higher caste femme. She wandered around before grabbing a holocube and disappearing behind the soaring shelves.

Megatronus suddenly gave a laugh and smiled against the burning lights. "You are a Prime coming into a corrupted planet, Orian. Heed my words when I tell you, it is not the visions Sentinel has relayed to you that you may come to rule over. If it is your utmost wish that I inform you of the true world..." he swallowed the lump as best he could. "It is my duty to oblige."

He looked back at Orian to see the cyberling's helm bowed to his chassis. His optics were downcast and his servos were raised before him. Pure terror covered every palpable inch of his frame. It poured across the length dividing him and his gladiator brother. The stench of his sadness choked Megatronus and took the smirk right off his lip plates.

Quickly, he strode forward. Without a second thought he took Orian into his arms and brought him as close as their armor would allow. The archivist in turn took little time in winding his arms around the wideness of Megatronus' midsection. Regret clung stubbornly onto Megatronus' spark and he internally recoiled at himself for what he had done. Hadn't it been his promise to keep Orian out of this? Wasn't he not to know of Cyberton's true form until adulthood?

Megatronus felt sick inside.

"I'm sorry, Orian," he muttered against the archivist's neck. Orian nodded and held on tighter to his brother. Megatronus returned the gesture and slowly rocked the mech side to side comfortingly. They hadn't embraced like this for some time now. It was nostalgic for the gladiator, and slightly saddening as well. It put in perspective just how far they were growing apart.

"Yes, Megatronus," Orian mumbled by the gladiator's audio. Megatronus screwed in his optic ridges and pulled back, looking Orian in the faceplates. The mech's optics shone with tears from more than the dust. But his expression was hard and emotionless.

"Yes, what Orian?"

"Yes, I want you to tell me. I want to know. I want to know...everything," he vented unsteadily. For a moment Megatronus simply stared. He couldn't believe his audios. The events he'd been dreading for so long now were coming upon him. Orian was upgrading into the being he'd never wished him to be. Where was the warmth, the passion for serenity?

But instead of questioning it, Megatronus nodded dumbly. His frame had gone numb, yet he somehow managed to bring Orian closer again. There they hugged until Sentinel found them on the floor. They left there that orn with a shadow over them that Megatronus would feel forever more.

"How is your kneebolt doing?" Euphoria linked her arm through the mech's as they passed by a lone mech sitting on a bench, reading a compad.

Megatronus smiled and waved the pivotjoint for demonstration. "I feel nothing now. It is intensely better," he informed.

On an orn such as this, Cybertron's star shining bright and warm down upon their frames, Megatronus hadn't a worry in the worlds. A beautiful femme waltzed by his side, hung on his arm. The Helix Gardens were magnificent in the dying light - coated in fiery oranges and scarlet. A new breeze had picked up around them, whistling through the incredible crystal formations with a lulling tune.

Megatronus could feel Euphoria purring against him, her chassis drawn entrancingly close to his bracer. In a single action she broke the spell, slipping her arm around his to hold his servo. The petiteness of her limb compared to his was intriguing. His digits nearly doubled hers, while she barely passed the height of his waist. Her noble blue paint clashed nicely with his ashy silver armor, while her sweeter features balanced out the ruggedness of his. They were a sight to behold.

And some did stop to send a look the couple's way. Few times had the Prime's adopted progeny taken to the public. So with a new femme on his arm, scars marring his still-healing front, and a happier gleam in his optics, a rare few could simply pass by without care.

The attention was beginning to get on the mech's last wire, and he bit back the urg to roar at the gawking Cybertronian tourists. Maybe it was the soft touch laid upon his bracer. Or, it could have been the delicate digits laced in his.

Euphoria patted his arm at a length in their stroll, catching his attention. She was smiling up at him without a care on Cybertron. The contentment in her optics settled his spark at once, the subtle way her faceplates scrunched in her smiling making his tense plates relax.

"Don't mind them, Megatronus," she said soothingly, squeezing his servo.

The Gladiator frowned and turned back to their walk, seeing yet another femme and mech staring at them as they went by. "They are all staring..."

"Let them," Euphoria decided suddenly, cupping his cheekplate and bringing his faceplates to aim at hers. "Just focus on me. Focus on this. Us."

As much as he wished to deny the request, in consideration of his previous aggravation against those around them, his lip plates refused to move. Euphoria spoke of them as a single entity, as if she expected them as such a couple of some sort. A pair.

Though the though sent a pleasant tingle down his spinal support, he swept it away immediately. Euphoria was a temporary presence. She could only stay at his side until he quenched his interests in her. The instance he understood her odd attraction to him, despite his being a gladiator and overall imposing figure, he would leave her to her own life. It was fair in his processor to let the femme go once his needs had been exhausted, including the fact that as High Protectorate, he could have no femme keeping him distracted. Preparing his processor for the strenuous examinations and selection process would be straining in itself. Worrying about another would add unnecessary weight.

For now, she fascinated him. His own reactions to her nearness -the way his frame heated when she touched him; each buzz through his energon as though they were licked with electricity when she smiled at him; a fluttering in his spark as her servo brushed his armor with her examinations- marked his attentions most. An inner instinct had arisen in him, a quite primitive nature inside himself, marking Euphoria as his own the moment his optics laid on her form. Ratchet had invoked a strange sensation in him akin to jealousy, but that couldn't be right. Megatronus had yet to experience such a feeling in his life cycle. The emotion was similar to what he'd heard of in his studies of the fictional pieces he snuck in-between assignments. Sentinel knew of the holocubes logged with fictional tales Megatronus kept with him, yet he did nothing against them. One of the better sides of the Prime was that he supported creativity.

Did creativity count as a live study? Would Sentinel Prime have approved Megatronus having a lower-caste femme on his arm for the sake of bettering himself? He didn't plan on having her near for long, if but simply to further his understanding of the other side of their species. Femmes were intriguing creatures, being so different from mechs as they were. Megatronus merely wished to understand why.

"There you go again," Euphoria murmured. Megatronus snapped from his revere and shuttered his optics a few times into the distance. They were in a new place, where Megatronus hadn't even realized they'd moved. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't paid any attention to around him. His optic ridges screwed in and he glanced down at Euphoria, who was watching him intently.

"What is it you mean?" he asked.

"You drift often, Megatronus. To places I have no knowing of, for breems at a time. You become focused on nothing else, as if your walls have blocked any sense of the outside worlds." Euphoria let go of his servo and started into the maze of crystal.

The waning strength of the star Cybertron orbited sent a blazing brilliance across the skies. In Praxus, the smoke of modern technology had yet to sink in, and so the pureness of the heavens remained clear. It let the scarlet magnificence of the setting star set fire to the surface of Cybertron and let translucent yellow beams shoot off the edges of the crystals. Usually a faded blue color, the crystals now shone in a symphony of golden rays.

Megatronus followed Euphoria into the field of crystals, finding her rich, sapphire frame easy to tract in the clusters of flame. Her servos were held in the small of her spinal support, her long legs swinging smoothly with each stride she took. The curves of her armor played well off her protoform, which peeked teasingly through the seams. In one moment, Megatronus was busy admiring her form. In the next, she was gone. Just like that.

The mech started in surprise and stopped mid-step. A single action by the femme had allowed her to slip from his sights, disappearing completely without trace. He stepped forward to where she had last been and swept his helm from side to side, searching for where his company had gone. A few stray Cybertronian strollers were making their way to exit the maze, passing him by without notice. The femme he sought however was no where to be found.

"How did these crystals come about Cybertron?" Euphoria's voice came from his left, and Megatronus' cranial unit jerked to his other side. "They are so beautiful." A flash of blue met his view. He started forward after her, craning his neck about the paths of crystals, only to come up empty.

"Sentinel Prime had them transported here," Megatronus responded as he examined, in utter perplexity, how his femme could leave so suddenly. "Special caretakers nurtured them and brought them up to their current condition."

"They're so old..."

"Elder than I, it seems."

A giggle picked up to his right. Megatronus changed direction.

"Perhaps I shouldn't be courting with such an older gentlemech," she teased. Megatronus whipped around as the femme sounded from behind him. Her happy faceplates beamed up at him as he turned. Before he could react, she lifted onto her toelinks and planted a sweet, gentle kiss on his lip plates. A spell overtook Megatronus' processor as he leant into her gesture, his optic slips lazily closing. She pulled away, leaving him to fall forward slightly after her. Two circles of heat bloomed from the spot on his chassis where she had supported her weight against him. But when his optic slips had opened again, she was missing.

"I was a youngling when I first came here," Megatronus retorted back to the air. He gave up trying to find his femme and instead wandered through the crystals, knowing she wouldn't be far away. "Sentinel had them implanted long ago, into the first vorns of his leadership. I'm not as old as you may assume."

A draft of breeze hit him from his side, catching his attention. He continued on nonetheless, quirking an amused smirk. "You are quite the specimen for your age, however lengthy that may be," Euphoria commented from nearby. Megatronus saw the color of navy pass by the peripherals of his right optic.

"Do you always tease such mechs this way?"

"No, not all of them," navy clashed against fiery golden, "You're special."

At this moment, Megatronus ripped to the side and grabbed the sneaky femme from behind a crystal. She squeaked, loud and piercing, as his arms wrapped tightly around her. They locked her in place and prevented her from escaping him. Being trapped like this triggered her struggling, the small fists pinned to his chassis wriggling. Smiling in accomplishment, Megatronus latched his digits onto Euphoria's armoring and kept up a solid grip on her petite frame. His helm ducked low to hers, causing her to freeze.

"Caught you," he growled in satisfaction, making her grumble in displeasure.

"Let me go, you villain," she demanded, renewing her writhing. Megatronus frowned at Euphoria, bringing back his cranial unit to look down on the pouting femme with feigned hurt.

"Now, now," he cooed tauntingly. "Is that any way to speak to your captor?"

The femme in his arms relaxed into him, placing distracting servos flat against his chassis. The thin digits slipped beneath his armor, fiddling with the wiring underneath. Her vents vibrated lowly and sent shocking spikes of heat up his spinal relay. Those stubborn features melted to a complacent grin. A mischievous light trickled into the white of her optics as the digits of one of her servos softly traced the contours of his armor.

"Please, _please_ let me go?" she attempted, turning her optics on his own. Megatronus fought to stay focused off the femme's exploring touch. His arms accidentally loosened, letting the lithe medic slip her arms up around the back of his neck.

They stayed incredibly close to one another, however didn't kiss. Their lip plates hovered within a vent away from each other, each quiver of their features noticeable by their partner. Their frames touched from chassis to toelinks, Euphoria having to stand on her toelinks slightly to get to Megatronus comfortably. His servos slipped down her spinal support, resting on her hipbolts. She didn't react to his movement, merely coming insanely close to his lip plates.

"Megatronus..." her voice could have burst the gladiator's audios then and there. His spark was speeding at unfathomable levels, the energy pulsing through his lines burning across his limbs. The urge from those groons ago, that had pushed him into doing such brash things, crept back into his processor. It took over himself with overwhelming force, knocking him ventless with the sheer power of it.

Warmth clouded his processor to the point where he could process nothing else but the want - the _need_. Such a real body against him drove him into places of himself he never recalled from before. It had been only a quartex of their meeting. A single, minute, quartex. How was it that this femme could drag him to his kneebolts, turn him to putty with barely a lift of her digit, or send his spark thrumming with more life than it had when he'd been created? Her presence alone brought his processor to that one orn; a time when he was beginning to know this creature and what she held. They hadn't connected like that since that lunar fall, allowing themselves to discover one another slowly, and more in-depth before they attempted something as brash as that again.

Could they bring themselves to do it again? Here, in the Helix Gardens, where but the orbiting lunar moons could see them? Had Megatronus the trust in himself to save this experience for but a studious purpose, and not personal? Was it possible for a mech to give up so much of himself to a femme, and yet claim their was no feeling between them? He had to. He must. It was for the better.

Contracting his optic ridges, Megatronus aimed his lip plates away from Euphoria, who lifted to kiss him. She dropped back to her heelpeds with confusion marring her faceplates.

"Megatronus?" she murmured, causing the mech's lip plates to turn down further. "What's wrong?"

Without warning the mech released her. He placed as much space as he dared to separate them, plummeting the heat in his frame when the body beside his was taken away. He avoided her prying gaze, and blatantly ignored the way she held her arms concernedly to her chassis.

"This," he bit from behind close oral sheets. "This is wrong. Whatever is developing here is wrong."

A flash of hurt crossed the depth of her optics. Those same optics of which held such power over his spark. Those optics of which guided him in the direction upon his darkest joors in the pits. Clashing with enemies far beyond his capability, her profile adhered to his processor, calling on him to survive. If but to make it pass the pits and collect her into his arms again, he fought unlike ever before in the arena. She knew who he was - what he did.

Why would she care for anything he did? Why would she let herself near a gladiator such as him, fully aware of what he was capable of? It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical. It frustrated him trying to understand what glitch this femme must have had to find _him_, of all mechs, suitable for her attentions. The residue of which secreted from the tar holes of Kaon appeared more pleasing to the processor than dare finding him attractive to be around. Anger filtered through his lines, cycled through his spark, and sent a searing wave under his armor. Why? That was always the fragging question. Why.

"Megatronus, I-"

"I should never have granted you with my contact," he commented hotly. "I allowed myself to foolishly bring you into a world you could never understand. You must have a glitch for contriving such an idea as finding me manageable." Megatronus' servos gestured to himself as his voice grew deep in aggravation. Most, if not all, his irritation was aimed at himself. He couldn't figure this femme or her reasons for staying at his side, and that annoyed him to no end. She had yet to explain her story to him, leading further into dark, obscured theories. There had yet to be a limit on the possibilities she could have for staying here this long. One, an idea lodged far, deep, into the back of his processor, warned that she maybe lingering for the credits. As a noble, Megatronus lived lavishly. This wouldn't be the first time a femme offered herself to him for credit.

But she didn't appear that way. Out of all of them, Euphoria had seemed the most sincere. To place such distrust upon her made his own spark writhe uncomfortably in guilt. The glint of her wide, frightened optics twisted his tanks and threatened to break his current anger.

"You are a fine mech," Euphoria murmured, edging toward him. "Whoever claims differently is the one glitched."

"What I do is-"

"Is a noble cause," she interrupted, closing the distance between them. "I know who you are, Megatronus, progeny of Sentinel Prime. You needn't be in the pits, yet you are, meaning there are reasons behind your actions. I know you better than that, Megatronus." she reached for his servo, but he pulled away. That ire inside of himself had turned to shame.

Perhaps it wasn't she who was glitched, but _him_.

_He _was the mech killing those he some orn wanted to protect. _He_ was the one living a lie as a champion of the gladiator pits, while a second life awaited him outside those doors. And _he_ was the one lolling around with a caring femme on his arm while his supposed brethren suffered in shackles at the mercy of civilian entertainment.

"You are in danger near me. Whether that danger be I or another, either is a threat for your life," Megatronus murmured, stopping Euphoria in her tracks. He averted his gaze from her, unable to place such private qualms on her innocent spark. "Some orn I wish to protect you, along with others, yet I may not do that with you unable to forgive me if you ever saw what I did. I let myself believe, if but for a moment, that there could be something between us. I used you for experiment," the femme's faceplates twisted into pain at this, "merely so I may enlighten my knowledge of the femme kind, rather than realize I held your actual fancy."

"I _have_ witnessed what gladiators can do. I treat them, do I not?" Euphoria demanded sternly. "And if you wished to understand what it was I thought of you, you could have simply asked me."

Megatronus' optics slips snapped shut and his oral sheets gritted. His helm shook from side to side and he turned away from her. "No, no, don't," he told her. "You don't. You may think you do, but you don't."

"Megatronus-"

"You are better off without me," he began away, not allowing himself to change his processor. "If you are smart, you will stay away."

"Let me tell you, I am not the smartest femme," she called at his spinal support. He paused for a split second, loosing a step. With a disbelieving sigh, he continued on through the maze, leaving the femme he'd strived so hard to take away from another, behind.


	6. Corrupt

**Yeah yeah guys, I know**

**You can go ahead and hit me XD**

**I've been away way too long...**

**I've kind of missed this site, and I know you've all be waiting so long for the next chapter**

**So here it is!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

Corrupt

~_ERROR CODE: 496215 resulting in *__**major**__* damage in *__**spinal core relay; memory core relay; central processing unit; electrovascular system at four-point-two-nine percentile; failure in mobility processes; failure in relay processes; vocal capacities failing to respond**__* energon levels at *__**depleted**__* - rebooting...failure to reboot...ERROR - crash of major systems eminent if lack to consult Chief Medical Officer continues...sorting cerebral core...attempting to recover_...~

* * *

><p><strong>24,691 Vorns, 11 quartexes, 2 groons before<strong>:

"I raised you better than this, Megatronus."

A largely figure, probably made so from the thick armor adorning his otherwise average protoform, strode slowly back and forth before the two standing obediently at his door. One found the need to position himself in front of his brethren in case the situation of their adopter would turn violent shall arise. It didn't seem as though this would be the case. The Prime was avidly behaved around the presence of his youngest, who would most likely be his favored progeny between them.

The silver warrior, robust in his own right, restrained himself from speaking what lay on the verge of his glossa. The silence was palpable. It crushed the cooling air right from Megatronus' vents. Though it couldn't possibly be worst for him as it was the sulking cyberling standing behind his shoulderbolt.

"This event Orian has brought to my attention has inclined me to believe the tactics I had attempted before fail to breach the stubbornness of your processor. As a..._gladiator_," Sentinel said the word with utter disdain, "your blinded apathy to those you fight beside have obscured your judgment."

"In what way?" Megatronus inquired, trying for the sake of his adoptive brother to keep his temper with the Prime.

"In the circumstance that you would look down upon the mantle you have been granted and offend it so by choosing a partner of such a caliber," he answered, blue optics narrowing. The noble energon running through his lines would bring on such a color in them, hence Megatronus' and Orian's optic hue. However those, like Euphoria for instance, held different hues depending on their class. She was a lower, Mezzo-class femme.

Stealing a glance over his shoulderbolt, Megatronus found Orian's helm to bow a little lower in shame. It had been him whose ignorance had bested him and allowed this vital information to slip. Euphoria's existence in Megatronus' life cycle was now known by the Prime, and thus, the situation could not turn out for the better. At first, this had angered Megatronus like nothing other. He was angered with Orian, where his words burned like a fiery pit in his tanks. However, in seeing the sorrowful mech, all aggravation had faded to the back of his processor.

Elita had yet to breach Orian's speech in Sentinel's company. That fact alone had crossed Megatronus' processor in a fit of revenge. Then the realization had crossed him that Orian had betrayed him only accidentally, and thus, it gave him no right to disclose his femme's being. So he would suffer the consequences in his brother's place. Because that was how great his appreciation for his brother was. If it meant he had to fall so his brother could rise, he would have done that. That was why he was to be Protectorate instead of Prime.

"This femme you so graciously affiliated yourself with, is she important to you?" Sentinel went on calmly, blatantly ignoring his youngest apprentice in favor of the eldest.

Megatronus frowned deeply. He couldn't tell the truth. He wouldn't. It was for her safety, as well as his own.

"No," he stated simply.

Sentinel's optic ridges rose at Megatronus' brief response. His servos rounded around to lock at the base of his spinal support, his optics studying the gladiator whom stared back at him coldly. "Oh, and here I had believed you were favoring this femme's attentions," he said back, voice steady with a hidden message. This conversation was leading somewhere. If it weren't, Sentinel would have dismissed him.

Distrust welled within Megatronus. He could feel an inner meaning behind Sentinel's comments, as obscured as they may be. Orian must have felt the same way, for when Megatronus glanced his way, the cyberling was practically dancing in place. While Megatronus studied his anxious comrade his tensions rose. Whatever Sentinel could be getting at, if there was anything to get at all, it couldn't be pleasant. Suspicion was heavy on his spark when he addressed his mentor and adoptive dolanno.

"Is there a reason you inquire as much?" he wondered lowly, brushing on thin grounds for a reaction. Sentinel displayed none but the utmost calmness. It was his specialty. The mech was infamous for his abilities for keeping a straight profile in times of stress or excitement.

Sentinel paced to the rear of the room where a window took up the vast majority of the wall. It was from ceiling to floor, expanding outward so as to give the most optimal view of the beauty of Iacon beneath. It was the latter orn, leaving the bustling city-state to be aglow in the waning rays of light. Twinkling stars glittered magnificently above and below. It was as if the skies and the cityscape were connected. And Sentinel Prime ruled over it all.

"I merely wished to advise against rambunctious behaviors, for that would be unfitting as a High Protectorate," Sentinel stated slowly, gazing across the carpet of his empire.

Megatronus froze in place, his limbs locking at his sides. Digits bore deep welts into his palms and shook with the force of his clenching. They trembling slightly with barely restrained emotion. Anger most likely held highest in his processor. Shock was a close second. The resentment was flowing through his lines again, but this time, of a sourer tinge. Sentinel was dropping to low, low points to be threatening his apprentice this way. Using Euphoria as a means to force him into a more 'professional' signature? That was a new version of sleazy for the mech to hit.

Megatronus hid his shaking fists behind his spinal support and quickly cleared his vocal capacitor. "I am afraid I do not understand, Sentinel," he lied evenly. His acidic optics burned into the side of the Prime's helm in attempts at seeing his expression. What could be there right now? Contempt? Ridicule? Mockery? Any of it would upset the gladiator immensely.

"High Protectorate, my dear Megatronus," Sentinel said, turning to set his side to his pupils. "I wish for you to fill that staple upon Orion's inauguration."

"You yourself declared I was to never be High Protectorate," Megatronus nearly snarled. This mech changed his plans on the turn of a knife. One was to never know when or what would occur in his presence. Those who were close enough to personally know him lived in constant fear of what he would order. It seemed as though the power of Prime had gotten to his ragged, disputable sanity.

Sentinel waved off a servo at Megatronus, dismissing the words. "That was in a time where undesirable energon split between us. I was not of my right conscious then, for I had not initially understood your tactics. However," he began, looking to Orian with a cool gaze, "it has come to my understanding that you have your ways of becoming a part of our race. It may differ from my own, but that is of no matter. I realize you wish only for the betterment of this planet, therefore, it was clear to me that I would have none other stand beside Orian as High Protectorate."

The change from ire to serenity had Megatronus reeling. He no longer knew how to communicate with Sentinel efficiently, which was to definitely become an issue if and when he was to become Protectorate. And Sentinel wasn't so far gone that he would be blind to the rift in their relationship. They were not a pair whom saw optic to optic. Sentinel was taught of the old ways of Cybertron, during its earlier stages of the Golden Age. That had been millennia ago and countless vorns. Things had changed now, meaning Megatronus' path was to definitely differ from Sentinels. And apparently that was to be a problem.

So what other reason for the Prime to be commending Megatronus after scorning him over a femme other than to strike a deal? It was a true moment of opportunity.

"What clause have you to compliment me? My relations, if any, do not benefit you as Prime. I am to have whomever I please, and it shall not affect our standings as Apex Class citizens," Megatronus surmised, his optic slips narrowing. Sentinel took his sights from Orian to settle on his elder student once more.

"You do not yet comprehend the severity of this world's lack of benign environment," Sentinel sighed. "However you are a keen mind, and I commend you for as much. What concerns me is this femme you relate yourself with-"

"She is of no value to me-"

"Relations are perpetual Megatronus, no matter their indefinite aperture!" Sentinel boomed when the mech cut him off. "Your status has been marred by brief circumstance. What of prying optics, brandishing your image with her at your arm, surfacing among Cybertron? What of our reputation amongst our people with your infatuation?" He raised his chin, looking down on Megatronus without needing be any taller. "Take it upon yourself to correct this detraction, or else my favor shall no longer fall upon you as my Protectorate's heir. Do _not_ let my calm demeanor fool you."

"What right have you to manipulation of my personal ventures?" Megatronus argued, taking a step forward. A smaller servo touched his arm, being Orian's, and the younger mech attempted to gently keep Megatronus restrained.

"Megatronus, calm yourself," Orian pled quietly, broken some in his guilt. Megatronus yanked his bracer away, far too lost in his aggravation to let himself become prey to Orian's soothing words.

He took another step towards Sentinel and the mech Prime faced him fully, solemn and serious. "No, no I will not calm myself," Megatronus snarled. "Your rules are of expression to deprive me of my liberties in life. You may disapprove of whomever it may be whose is to stand at my side in my latter life cycle, however, you are not to restrain me from acquiring such a feat as a sparkmate. That femme is not of my interests, therefore, I haven't the _distraction_ you so fondly recall her as." Megatronus' lip plate sneered in distaste and anger. "I shall take your offer as heir of the High Protectorate. But of my own accord." And the gladiator ripped around without allowing Sentinel to make a remark.

Orian started after Megatronus, but the gladiator felt betrayed and irritated by his younger comrade, and so he slammed the door of Sentinel's office behind him to shut off the cyberling. Megatronus stormed through the halls, intent on melting through the metallic walls with only his optics. When he finally came to the front entrance of the domicile, he took in a long vent and let it go very slowly. He felt better afterwards, but his thoughts were still clouded.

There was only one place he knew that could get his musings off of Sentinel and Orian. One place, which he was aware of the incredible danger and sacrifice put into each show. One place, where he was respected and treated as a free being and not a styled prince. One place, that truly felt more a home than this one.

Megatronus started making his way for the lunar cycle holorail, on his way to the gladiator pits.

* * *

><p>Perhaps it was of no more interest to the passing optic than a mere spark of a severed wire. Bolstered groups of rambunctious mechs, gathered round the bars, a container of luscious azure liquid, brimming with substances sure to break their awareness by the second cube, sitting in a wave of laughter. On either side of these giggling, overheated beings, they pushed and shoved in their violent, content humor until they fell off their stools or fights broke the blanket of peace. The others, renewed in vigor, bellowed until their cheekplates were flushed in blue, their optics gleaming.<p>

Among them, their king of the arena. Past qualms ignored, they gathered along the wide ring of openness, prowling like savage predators as their champion danced the most graceful, deadly dance among them. A lethal grin took up his lip plates, though it was less than so, as these were his brethren after all. And as much, mere unconsciousness satisfied these unruly beasts.

Megatronus roared, his arms launched skyward in victory as his latest opponent lay still on the ground. Laughing, the champion squatted down beside Brawl and patted his cheekplate, nearly cross-optic as he roused his comrade. The gladiator was leisured to awaken and as he had, his sights were clouded with the misty sheen of a daze. "Ah, rouse yourself, Brawl!" he chuckled, slapping his cheekplate a bit harder. "I didn't knock you down too roughly, did I?" With a laugh he stood and clapped bracers with the mech. He heaved backwards, helping his comrade to stand. He was woozy, and Megatronus thought the hazy disorientation in his optics was amusing.

Leaving the mech be was a simple task, as it allowed Megatronus to stride pridefully towards the bar once again, his chassis puffed and his mandible held high. Plates of armor trembled off his protoform in exuberance. He was untouchable - invincible to the mortal envy.

A mech with a cube of energon stood amongst the crowd, and from that servo, the victor snatched it and growled in challenging for rebuke. When none came, the sloshing contents were downed through Megatronus' throat into the burning broil of his tanks. It was emptied faithfully, then unfaithfully thrown into the floor to shatter into uncountable pieces. A primitive scream of mechhood rumbled the walls of the barracks, joined in full by the others surrounding. Fists rose to the air, chanting their champion's name in utter devotion.

A brilliant light had appeared in his optics, driven by his lust for battle. A pair by the rear of the space, caught up in staying out of the fray of the crowd, kept to themselves. A femme, painted in a color deep enough to be confused for scarlet or fuchsia, was seated across the way from a hunched mech cloaked in a black dark enough to rival the night itself, with heated red details that blazed along his arms, stating his place in the worlds with a prominent mark. They were interesting.

"You, there!" Megatronus barked, jerking his mandible at the pair. The crowd around them parted, leaving none in the way of Megatronus' sight. They looked up in mild attention, both sets of faceplates ground in a permanent scowl. Megatronus lifted his arm wide from him, offering himself openly to them arrogantly. "Would either of you care to spar with the champion?"

The femme, Astrea, if he recalled correctly, snorted and shrugged a shoulderbolt, effectively brushing off his offer. The mech, a newer addition to the Pits; a mech designated Solas Kaon. That one had a reputation. Surely one that Megatronus would have wished to test for himself, as it intrigued him. After all, it had been that mech whom had defeated, and granted mercy, to Sideswipe, one of the renowned twins of the pits. However, by the shake of Solas' helm, and the cold turn of his spinal support, there would be no brawl this orn.

Disappointment was certain in Megatronus, however, he ignored it in favor of saving his mood. He raised his balled servo again, toward the roof of their prison-like habitat. There were plenty more colleagues he could brush fists with.

Then a figure, shrouded in onyx, their glowing gaze haunted with a yellow tinge of the Terminal class. Their hunched, submissive stature, soaked in unworthiness, approached the godly mech. The crowd barely noticed his approach, and so were meekly shoved through by the mech with words of apology whenever he touched them. Megatronus ceased his guttural calls of a warrior and lowered his fist, his optics instinctively measuring the one coming for him. His gaze, though meant to be neutral towards all, seemed all too overbearing in their natural, Alpha, blue color.

With weak volume, and a hollow posture, the newcomer breached the curtain of laughing mechs to come in company with their respected leader. "Megatronus..." he uttered, cringing into his dirtied and battered frame. The plates of his features, laden in subversive instincts, let his gaze fall from the more deserving of Megatronus'. "There is a femme...awaiting you outside."

Whoops and whistles followed Megatronus' confused state while he stared at the Terminal-class mech. Half of his processor could not, would not, understand what was told to him. When it did settle in, a part of himself became interested. First, he was granted an endless bounty of energon to drown in. Second, every match against him had brought on failure among failure for the challenger. And third, there was now a femme waiting for _him_ outside the barracks.

What possibly could the champion of the gladiator pits have done to deserve the pleasure of this orn?

Measured steps took him to the front of the bar, a half-full cube clutched in his tainted digits and a drunkard's smirk on his warm lip plates. A few comrades clapped him on the shoulderbolt, jarring the sore socket housing the mighty warrior's arm. A bracer, heavy in fatigue, hid all strain while he lifted up the cube to his faceplates and downed the rest of the high-grade. Fluffy dizziness accompanied the mugginess of an obscured processor. It was a laugh that bubbled forth when he swung out his arm and promptly smashed the empty cube onto the mech's helm.

He wasn't present to watch the brawl that ensued. The one, he started. None truly knew whom had begun the fight, for the culprit was escaped into the dimness of the corridors. Well, escaped hadn't as much proper definition as _stumbled_ per say. Garbled words left him, of a spark song he knew of from long ago, however failed to remember from whence it came. Femme creator was out of the question. A nannia was luxury for those with stability in their life cycle. Sentinel was the one then? No. No fragging way.

Grumbling echoed a disbelief of anger broiled in with the confusion. Why was he mad again? He remembered a fight, and words being said that he couldn't completely recall. The reasoning slipped past him. The song curdled into the roughness of his graveled voice. Whatever had happened was over now. Visions swayed of the tunnel ahead. Was that the femme there? That shadow, waiting for him?

She was a beauty, whatever she was, waiting there in the cascade of the milky waterfall that was the luminescence of the lunar masses orbiting Cybertron. What were they this lunar cycle? Lunesta and Cynile? They worked well on the femme, against the sapphire gleam and graceful swoop of her sloped shoulderbolts. Brilliant bulbs of which he assumed to be the windows to her spark lifted to pierce the dankness of the hall Megatronus walked. Dainty servos were clasped, almost shamefully, their grip filled with terseness, in front of her.

A pump beyond pumps beat away at the constrictive chamber of his chassis when his optics met hers. Some would mill past and perhaps stop and pause, as they had failed to do at the pub, and watch her for awhile. It was the beauty of she that spark interest when an essence passed, on hesitant peds, to dare pass her by without another look. Megatronus was one such entity to take his greedy moments to stare at her every detail, down to the curl of her crest upon that smooth helm. Any sane enough to have an interface cable wouldn't process to miss the chance to revel, if but for a nanoclick, at her loveliness.

Euphoria was her designation. Her spark. Her presence.

Megatronus hadn't the ability to speak out first, bound by the pride of a mech to stay vigilantly silent. He towered over she, helm tilted down, optics aimed lower to bask in her attractiveness in a swimming blue hue. It was marked with high-grade and emotion. Withheld emotion. Yet emotion nonetheless.

Then her antsy gaze broke from his, allowing his thoughts to clear. It was usually the high-grade to sway him. Now this femme, coupled with that, nearly left him crippled at her peds. He wanted her. So very, very badly. But he held himself back, knowing, dreading, that they may never be.

"Megatronus, I..." her sweet, even voice began. Smoothed over in uncertainty, the sound thrilled. Dare he imagine it be ever the more enticing when she did say his designation. Frag the femme and her impression! What hold of he that she held, his spark in her servo, able to crush it with the simple means of clenching that fist! And there his life would leak away onto the ground without mercy in her grasp. It was that strength she bore on his conscious. The venom was she. Euphoria was the anger he knew, and evidently, found himself addicted to.

It was his turn for words, and he failed to say them. Words hurt. They were too powerful. He didn't trust himself with them.

"What you said before-"

"You shouldn't have come," he interrupted, painfully, the sentence burning his throat and scorching his vocal capacitor. Clearing his voice again, for firmer usage, he repeated, "You shouldn't have come."

Again the hurt crossed her. It crossed him. They were connected, though he desperately attempted to prevent a circumstance as that. At a term he believed the best would be for them to stay separate. And still at this important moment he made sure his buzzing peds stayed where they were. They were meant to be locked, yet it was he that urged them to stay in place rather than carry him into the silhouette tantalizing every wire of his grid. What he wouldn't give to again feel her frame against his once more - to hear the heated moan against his audio.

Euphoria shifted, servos clamped as vices on herself. "I had to," she reasoned, weakly. Perhaps the pull was strong in her too. "Where we left off...I couldn't recharge knowing that we broke things off that way. If you wanted to leave, fine, I'm fine with that." Her boundless, universally hammered optics struck at his intoxicated spark. Though from the high-grade, or the femme standing in front of him, he was no longer sure where the blow had come from.

"I knew I wasn't enough from the beginning. Deep within me, the wisdom came that a femme as I hadn't depth to match yours. A gladiator femme perhaps, however, myself is remotely insufficient in comparison. I know that." The way she rambled on tore at him. This wasn't the femme he knew from before. She was restrained, yes, but more so in smokey azure waves of heat rather than cold formality.

_You know nothing_, he wanted to say, but he didn't. _You don't know why I left or the pain in the aft it caused me to make myself believe I didn't need you. That I didn't __**want**__ you_. _Because, the truth is, I want you so very badly._

Words were a powerful thing.

"You don't understand," he rumbled, lowly, without malice. If he could grant this femme anything, it could be the care of a proper sendoff. Rebuke wouldn't sit well in him. At least, not after what they'd experienced so far. "You...you are..." The energon ate away his thoughts, leaving him stranded. What did he want to say? Frag it all, the words ceased to enter his processor correctly. His glossa was no aid either, being the benign piece of sludge it was acting like.

Euphoria's optic slips narrowed, the whiteness of them becoming slivers. "Are you..._drunk_?" she hissed, lowly and without the gentleness of a medic, but the fierceness of her femme way. It pinched his spark to show his faceplates in front of her as he did this way, in this condition. It certainly was unbefitting of his stature in society. What was he doing? He should have turned away the moment he saw her standing there at the end of the hall.

Unwilling to show his shame, Megatronus grumbled and crossed his hefty bracers over his chassis. "I can drink if I so...see fit," he garbled, managing that much of a sentence. This was definitely unlike himself. Euphoria wouldn't be tricked in his attempts. Primus frag it, he wished he was able to control his high-grade. How would Orian react if he saw the gladiator, wavering on his stand, smashing emptied energon cubes onto mech's helms? Suddenly, this late orn didn't seem so wonderful or relaxing. "I don't want your jud-"

A petite servo snapped up, cutting him off. "I won't tell you what you can and can't do, that isn't who I am," Euphoria intoned, less so deterred than determined. Hard optics lifted as her servo lowered. "And you are a fully upgraded mech. It is in your right to indulge." When that servo fell Megatronus could deny the fact that he wanted to reach forward and grab it. They had always been the warmest of them all, he'd found out. "What I came here for was to tell you that no matter if you are a gladiator, a drunkard, the Prime's progeny, or a danger to myself, I cannot vex your image from my processor. Tell me away so that I may continue in peace, Megatronus. Banish me from sight so my spark may ring another's designation. Strike my cheekplate so your forever raised fist may deter my fixation."

Her optics moved away here, staring into the skies above and into the lovely shade of the lunar orn light. A soft hum of light bounced from the curve of her cheekplate. "Or if you wish further to torture me with this ailing spark, leave me here, detested, without answer. Or accept me. You have my fancy in your servo. Crush it, leave it, or take it - the choice of cruelty is yours."

What a choice he held. Power licked through his digits, scaling the length of his bracer, and becoming gnarled within the confines of his spark. It was her affections hovering at the precipice here. Whether he decided to deny her here (as he had considered almost obsessively), accept the whimsy she provided (as he had also subjected to his conscious), or decide neither and walk away now (of which standards brim on the line of cowardice), it was up to him. All that influence was at the tips of his digits.

Shuttering his optics, Megatronus' vents let go of a fluttering sigh. The words came to the forefront of his processor, ready to be said. Dare he say them? To him, right now, they sounded so right. To a sober processor, of which he usually may possess, this would be insanity.

"I already claimed you," he stated, firmly, finally, outside of the sluggish drunkenness. With a growl, he lifted a servo and swiped it across the front of his body. "You idiotic femme, you should have stayed away. How is it I am the torturer when you brandish yourself here, in my state?" His optics shot open and his arm shot outward, catching the silhouette that molded to his so perfectly to his own. A helm thrummed with the deepest of rumbles while it inclined toward his mistress'. "A trap has captured you, my femme, and nigh my sword will gleam with his energon if may Ratchet tear you from it."

Desperation let it's presence be known in the way she hooked her digits around his center. Clamped onto his armor, he dare not breach that attachment of her against him. A warmth unknown to him wafted from her, as a fulfilling sensation Sentinel hadn't given him within his life cycle. A sparkling was she to clasp with all her measly femme strength onto him and bury her faceplates into his chassis. This tender time, filtering and cycling between them in dramatic humidity, sank them within the crust of Cybertron into a place rid of all but themselves.

Tiny pricks spiked where Euphoria's slim digits brushed his protoform. "I never loved him," she hissed, muffled in the thickness of his enormity. "I couldn't. You stupid mech, why? Why do I chose you of them all? Why? Why?" A single fist beat exactly three times on his chassis. Frustration weighed on her pretty frame.

And he allowed her to beat him. He deserved it, that at least he knew in this confounded term of high-grade intoxication. Euphoria was better off in another's company, and thus why must he be this selfish and keep her? Ratchet would be fitting for her, as a medic, and a politician. A normal, calm life cycle bonded to him. Any femme would have wished for that. She could grow to love him, in time. And such together they may create many a sparklings as a pair.

Yet not this femme. This crazed, insane, fantastic femme. Of which he _didn't_ deserve.

"I want to hate you," she mumbled, lovely faceplates caught in the mass of Megatronus' frame. "I should hate you for doing this to me...but..." She lifted away, and they stared. Unable to do but that one thing. In fascination maybe it was that they couldn't move. "But frag, Megatronus, gladiator, champion, you _drunkard_..." She beat on his chassis again. "I fell into the suave taste of your lips on my own and may you be blasted to Pit for torturing me."

The mech of course could do nothing else but kiss her. It was the proper action to take at that moment, wasn't it? He smashed their lip plates together, savoring her smell; the sweet taste of her glossa; the rapturous tangle of her sapphire limbs with his grey ones. Primus cursed him at the wrong time to be tempted with infatuation in this instance.

Just when he was on the precipice...tasting glory on the tip of his glossa...Euphoria woke him up on the medbay floor. Blast her. May she be cursed to Pit. This she-beast. This concubine of horrible fate. This harpy of hatred. This...this fantastical sense of impending doom in the form of a femme's delicate frame. He never wanted to let go.

There they stood, one drunken with something beyond the energon, and another bound to the champion of the gladiators; a killer with energon on his servos; a fighter with nothing but everything to give. Together they stood.

* * *

><p><strong>There you guys go :D<strong>

**A little make-up kiss after the argument of last chapter ;)**

**It's been really fun writing this story, and so I apologize for not getting a chapter out until now!**

**I'm truly looking forward to finishing this story with you guys :D**


End file.
